


All The Noise Died Away

by only_because3



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-10
Updated: 2012-04-10
Packaged: 2017-11-03 10:24:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 47,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/380354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/only_because3/pseuds/only_because3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Up until today, they’d been safe and that’s the only thing that should have mattered. It is the only thing that matters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All The Noise Died Away

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I've been working on this for quite some time now and was for a big bang. I've tried to make this as in character as possible for everyone and well, I really hope that you all enjoy this. It's the first time I've tried covering nearly everyone in such an indepth manner. I also want to say that I've tried to portray what I believe to be a realistic zombie apocalypse. This is AU after season 2

She brings a hand to her head, rubbing her temple as Santana continues droning on about Brittany. Normally she wouldn’t care, might even add a word or two, but her head has been killing her all morning and this Math worksheet is kicking her ass for some reason.  
  
    “If you were really a good guy,” she says, cutting off Santana and putting her free hand on Sam’s forearm, “you would shut her the hell up.”  
  
    Sam grins a little and Santana shoves her before taking the worksheet from in front of her. “Pop a Pamprin and actually be my best friend for once.” Santana fills in the answers easily and while usually Quinn hates how good Santana is at Math because it’s just another thing they try to best each other at, she’s thankful for it today. “What am I supposed to _do_?”  
  
    Quinn runs a hand through her hair, shrugging. “Be a normal person and ask her out on a date? I know you haven’t had a lot of them but I remember a time when you used to make Puck treat you to dinner before you ended up on your back.”  
  
    “I can’t just ask her out on a date, Tubbers. That’s not how-”  
  
    “Why don’t you actually use the balls you talk so much about,” Sam interjects. “Just last week you said they were bigger than mine but even I can take Mercedes out to dinner at Breadstix.”  
  
    Quinn laughs. “He makes a good point.”  
  
    “Fuck you both,” Santana grumbles, returning her attention to Quinn’s paper.  
  
    “How is Mercedes by the way,” Quinn asks, looking at the group near the back of the classroom. They laugh loudly but the girl with strawberry blonde hair looks pale and though she tries to smile, it falters spectacularly.  She shivers in her seat but even Quinn can see the sweat forming on her brow from across the room. “Today’s her first day back right?”  
  
    Sam nods, tapping his pencil to a beat she can’t place on his Math book. “She’s good. Nothing a few stitches and a shot couldn’t fix.” He turns to see what she’s looking at and his face scrunches. “She’s not looking too hot.”  
  
    Santana looks up just as the girl goes slack, her head falling back as she slumps in her seat. “The fuck?” Mrs. Dial rushes over to the group, one of the guys Quinn vaguely recognizes from the hockey team easing the girl on to the ground. “Aren’t you _not_ supposed to move people if you don’t know what’s wrong with them,” Santana remarks, glaring at the rest of the students who gather around the scene like flies. “Give her some air!”  
  
    A few students actually listen to her and return to their seats but most try and get closer. “This is disgusting,” Quinn comments, flicking Sam’s shoulder when she notices him craning his neck to see what’s going on.  
  
    “I’m just trying to see if she’s okay.”  
  
    Mrs. Dial pushes her way out of the group, telling everyone explicitly not to touch Linda. Someone must try and reach her because Mrs. Dial, who at 64 is usually very passive and docile, yanks the boy by the hood of his sweatshirt and practically screams, “Everyone in their seats _right now_ or I will make sure you’re all given three weeks detention.”  
  
    Sam leans forward. “I think Mrs. Dial found your balls.” Santana takes her pen from her hand and it hits Sam directly between the eyes. Quinn quickly snatches it back before the two can start a fight that won’t end.  
  
    Mrs. Dial slams the phone down as the door opens, Jacob Ben Israel skirting in to the classroom. It’s the middle of the period but the hallway is full of students running around like the bell is about to ring. Quinn glances at the clock.  
  
     _8:35_.  
  
    There’s a bang outside, the unmistakable sound of someone being shoved against lockers, and Santana’s hand curls around her wrist when Jacob turns off the lights before sinking to the floor. “What’s going on,” Santana asks. Jacob spots Linda passed out and his eyes get so large, it’d be comical in any other situation. He keeps muttering under his breath and Quinn can’t hear him at all but he looks even creepier than normal, the way he’s pulling at his hair and shaking his head.  
  
    She grips Santana’s hand when Jacob starts to back into the corner of the room. Quinn can’t be the only one in the room thinking what she’s thinking. She can still remember when various TV shows had their own very special episodes concerning things like this and this independent film she caught late at night back when she was pregnant. Of course, it’d happen in some sleepy town like Lima. She glances at Santana and then pulls off her cardigan. It probably won’t help; if they’re targeting specific people, they know what the popular kids look like and it’s not like she has a spare pair of pants so that Santana can get rid of her Cheerio skirt. But she shoves her sweater into Santana’s arms and even though she’s visibly confused, she quickly trades her letterman jacket for Quinn’s cardigan when someone screams in the hallway.  
  
    “How many are out there,” Sam asks. Jacob ignores him and tries to keep Mrs. Dial away from Linda. She pushes him off her as Sam stands up. “Did you see their guns?”  
  
    Santana’s nails dig into her palm.  
  
    “Guns,” Jacob asks, not taking his eyes off Linda who finally looks like she’s coming to. “Why would they have guns?” Linda sits up slowly and Jacob shakes his head, scrambling to the door.  
  
    “Are you-” Mrs. Dial’s words are cut off when Linda turns her head and leeches on to their teacher’s neck.  
  
    Jacob’s the first one out of the classroom. All she can do is stare as Linda tears away from Mrs. Dial’s throat, gnawing on flesh with a grin as blood runs down her chin and stains her white Titans sweatshirts. Mrs. Dial’s pearls bounce on the floor, some catching in the pool of blood at the woman’s knees. Linda goes back in, and Sam physically pulls her up from her seat while Santana holds open the door.  
  
\--  
  
    She has absolutely no idea what’s going on.  
  
    She pulls her headphones off as she rounds the corner, letting them hang around her neck, and looks around the crowded hallway. Jacob runs into her, sending her sheet music to the floor. She sighs, crouching down to pick up the papers. She suspects the hockey team is armed with slushies again but then somebody grabs her arm, causing her to drop her papers _again_. “Let go-” She turns in the grasp and finds that Puck is the one grabbing her and pushing her back towards the choir room before pulling them into Mr. Schue’s office. “What on _earth_ are you doing,” Rachel asks, watching as he locks the door. “What’s going on? I have to go get my sheet music before it’s completely ruined.”  
  
    She tries to move past him but he shakes his head and grabs her by the shoulders and spins her around. “You’re not going back out there.”  
  
    She digs her heels into the ground but it’s a useless move on linoleum when she’s wearing flats. He pushes her gently but firmly and when they get to the doorway into the choir room, she puts her hands on the frame. “I’m not moving another inch until you tell me what’s going on.”  
  
    “You wouldn’t believe me so we may as well keep moving.”  
  
    The door to the music room is kicked open, completely unnecessarily since it wasn’t even locked, and suddenly Puck is pulling her back. He seems two seconds away from throwing her over his shoulder so she kicks him in the shin to get him to let go. “Noah Puckerman, if you-”  
  
    “I will explain while we go, but you’ve got to stop wasting time.” He looks past her and his face pales just before he grabs her hand.  
  
    The hallway is a complete madhouse which makes her grip Puck’s hand tighter as they weave through the masses. “Where are we going?”  
  
    “My truck,” he answers simply and her eyebrows furrow.  
  
    “Wouldn’t it be faster to go past the office?”  
  
    He shakes his head. “Too risky.”  
  
    “Risky?” She looks at all the other students and though they do look panicked, this doesn’t exactly look like a high risk situation. “What-”  
  
    “I was on my way to take my usual nap through Math class but the nurses office was kind of crowded.”  
  
    “Crowded how? Is there something contagious going around?” He shrugs and then shoulders the football players out of their way. “Is it even safe for us to leave?”  
  
    “I don’t fucking know, Rachel. All I know is that Mercedes bit the medic working on her-”  
  
    Her shriek cuts him off and he spins around, eyes frantically searching her for _something_ before studying the people around them. “What happened to Mercedes? Is she okay?” She turns, ready to drag Puck back to the front entrance because, _honestly_ , he should have known better than to mention that Mercedes was ill. She’s worried enough that she hasn’t seen anyone else but if they’re in some sort of danger and Mercedes is carelessly left to… It doesn’t matter. What does matter is that she makes sure her friends are okay.  
  
    “She _bit_ the medic! Clearly _something_ isn’t okay.” He yanks her back and pushes them out the double doors. “I’m not sure what’s happening but people are acting fucking weird and we have got to go.”  
  
    The cold air hits her cheeks and she reaches into her coat pocket for her hat before realizing she put it in her locker with her gloves when she first got to school. “What about Finn? Are you sure we even can leave? I know you’re fine with ditching, Noah, but I have perfect attendance so far this year and I’d really like to-”  
  
    “Does it _look_ like second period is going to start today,” he snaps and she pulls her wrist out of his hand.  
  
    “I do not appreciate how you’re speaking to me,” she says and he throws his hands up.  
  
    “Are you really doing this now?” She crosses her arms beneath her chest and he sighs, running a hand over his short mohawk. “I’m sorry, okay? But I’m freaking the fuck out and I don’t know how safe it is here and I wouldn’t be able to handle leaving you here. Mike thinks…”  
  
    “Mike thinks what?” He digs around in his pocket and then hits a few buttons before tossing her his phone.  
  
     _Am I the only one getting Left 4 Dead vibes?_  
  
    Her faces scrunches. “I don’t know what this means.” A new message pops up, this one from Sam, and she opens it without hesitation. “ ‘Half way to kids’ school with Q  & S. Chick in Math bit Mrs. Dial.’”  
  
    “Fuck. C’mon, Rachel.” He grabs her hand again, this time lacing their fingers together.  
  
    “Why are people biting each other? It can’t be rabies… It simply can’t spread that fast.” Puck doesn’t say anything but she hears him sigh when he finally spots his truck. Kurt is already in the bed of the truck and Finn has his hands shoved in his pockets, pacing back and forth as he makes sure no one comes close to the car. Kurt spots them first, pointing them out, and it’s amazing how just seeing Finn’s face makes her feel a little bit better.  
  
    “Sam text you,” Puck calls out as Finn jogs over to them.  
  
    He nods, immediately wrapping his arms around Rachel. “It can’t be true right? This doesn’t happen in real life.”  
  
    “What doesn’t,” Rachel asks and Finn looks down at her before looking back at Puck.  
  
    “You didn’t tell her?”  
  
    “Have you said it out loud yet? Because it sounds fucking retarded in my head, I can only imagine how crazy it seems out loud.”  
  
    Kurt jumps out of the truck and she finds herself slightly more grateful for him. She slips out of Finn’s arms and walks over to her best friend. “Are they telling you anything? Puck practically went almost completely Neanderthalic in there.”  
  
    He picks at her coat, pulling off a piece of lint before calmly saying, “They think it’s zombies.”  
  
    She laughs. Not just a small, that’s a crazy suggestion laugh, but she practically doubles over, maybe even snorts. She laughs so hard. Kurt smiles and she keeps laughing until Puck yells, “Finn,” and she turns around in time to see Puck punching one of the football players away from Finn. The player falls to his knees and she opens her mouth to lecture him about violence when he goes in for another punch, but then the guy grabs Puck’s arm and looks like he’s about to bite it before Finn kicks him square in the face.  
  
    “Get in the fucking truck!”  
  
\--  
  
    They go to his house first only because it’s closest to the school. Brittany tries to stress how much they should go to Artie’s first, just in case this is a situation where they need to grab necessities (she is so much smarter than she lets on) but Artie just shook his head. Even though Mike’s house won’t afford the same accessibility as Artie’s, there’s no point in backtracking, especially given… Artie trailed off after that.  
  
    He parks in the driveway, next to his father’s car, and he tries not to think about how this is probably the first time his car has ever been home at this time. Tina reaches over and squeezes his thigh. “Do you want us to go in,” she asks and he glances at Brittany and Artie through the rear-view mirror before shaking his head.  
  
    “I’ll go talk to my parents and see if we can find out anything.”  
  
    He finds his mother at the dining room table with a cup of tea shaking in her hands. Her hair, which is normally in big waves, is in a bun at the nape of her neck, and she has on her ridiculously oversized glasses instead of her contacts. Her suit jacket is on the chair next to her and her heels lay forgotten at her feet. “Mama?”  
  
    She looks up from her cup and then drops it immediately. The china breaks, brown liquid spreading across polished wood, and it would’ve fallen onto her lap if she didn’t get up to hug him. “Michael, I’m so glad you’re here! I was so worried when I couldn’t reach you.”  
  
    He pulls his mom close and then asks in Mandarin, “What’s going on? Where’s Dad?”  
  
    She takes his hand and leads him to the table, motioning for him to sit down. “He’s calling your grandparents. We need to go get them.” She gets two new cups out of the china cabinet and sets them down in from of him. She runs a hand through his thick hair before pulling him to her again. “Your father isn’t saying much… Just that we should be with one another.”  
  
    “Tina, Artie and Brittany are outside.”  
  
    His mom sits down next to him, eyes focused on the bay window. “Have they spoken to their parents?”  
  
    “I don’t think so… Unless they’re calling now.”  
  
    She runs a finger over the handle of the tea cup. “They shouldn’t be outside.”  
  
    His father comes in and though he looks more together than his mom, Mike can see the stress written on his normally stoic face. “Michael.” He claps a  hand on Mike’s shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze before letting go. “Now that we’re all here, we can go get your grandparents.”  
  
    Mike looks to his mother. “What about my friends?”  
  
    “Friends,” his father asks, shaking his head. “We need to be with family now, Michael. We need to protect your mother and grandparents.” He gets up and follows his father into his office. “It’s time for you to become a man. And as a man, your responsibility is to your family. There is nothing more important in this world than family.” He goes to his desk and unlocks the bottom drawer. He pulls out a machete, sets it carefully on his desk, and then pulls out a handgun.  
  
    “If I’m a man now, can you tell me what’s going on?”  
  
    His father swallows hard. “There was something wrong with one of the new vaccines.” Mike’s eyebrows furrow and his father lets out a breath. “Instead of fixing the problem, it made it worse.”  
  
    “What’re you saying, Dad?”  
  
    His dad stays silent and then tosses Mike the machete. “We have to go get your grandparents.”  
  
    He watches as his dad pockets a box of bullets before checking the chamber of his gun. Satisfied with what he sees, he puts it in his inner breast pocket and then walks over to his closet. He pulls out two jiàns (Mike can remember his mom hiding them in there every morning after his dad left for work. They used to be up in the dining room and his mom hated how it made the room look. After two years of bickering, his dad agreed to put them away) and hands the black and red one to Mike.  
  
    “I can’t leave my friends.”  
  
    His father shakes his head. "This is serious, Michael. We are going to go pick up your grandparents and we will stay together until everything is taken care of."  
  
    "What are they supposed to do? I can't just leave them." His father picks up his car keys and pushes past him. "If I'm supposed to be a man now, I need to protect them."  
  
    His father stops in the middle of the hallway, turning his heel to stare Mike down. "Would you really choose people you barely know over your family?"  
  
    Mike's grip tightens on the sheathed blades in his hands. "They are my family, Dad."  
  
    His father rolls his eyes and turns around, muttering under his breath in Mandarin, his voice steadily getting louder. "In two years you won't even remember these people! Tina is just a girl whose parents are much too lenient with her. All that make up and those clothes." His father scoffs. "Who is else out there, hm? Her ex-boyfriend she always seems to hang out with? He'll only hold you back. He can't even walk! And that other dumb girl? Pft." He shakes his head and Mike throws the jiàns his father handed to him to the ground. The noise cuts through his father's words and when his father looks at him again, Mike shakes his head.  
  
    "I'm not going to let you bully me. I know that family is important, Dad, I do. And I want nothing more than for all of us to be safe together. But I will not just leave the people I love stranded in front of our house. They need me."  
  
    His father doesn't say anything and so he walks outside, surprised to find his mother holding Tina and Brittany close. "Mama, you should be inside."  
  
    Her grip tightens on the girls and she presses a kiss to Brittany's head while running a hand through Tina's hair. "I wanted to make sure they were okay." Brittany burrows further into his mom and Tina smiles softly. His mom and Brittany are closer than Tina and his mom but that's okay because he's known Brittany since they were 6. They met in a dance class, the only class he's ever actually taken since his father disapproved, and they've been best friends ever since. She was his first girlfriend and even though his father always hated when she was over, his mom adored Brittany. His mom is trying with Tina but he knows it'll take time for them to get to the same comfort level.  
  
    It's really nice though, seeing all his girls like this. "Mama, I'm not going with you to go get Ye Ye and Nai Nai." She stares at him for a moment before nodding slowly.  
  
    "I don't want to leave you," she breathes out and then carefully untangles herself from the girls. "Where is your father?" Mike nods to the house behind him, pulling his mom in for another hug. "When we bring your grandparents back, will you meet with us?"  
  
    "Of course, Mama."  
  
    "Julia." His father shuts the front door and walks up to them, eyeing the girls carefully. "Come on. We have to go."  
  
    She nods, taking a deep breath. She hugs the girls tightly and waves to Artie who is still sitting in the back of the van. His father throws a bag into the backseat of his car, along with the jiàns before drumming his fingers impatiently on the roof of the car. "I love you, Mike," his mom says and he leans down so she can kiss him on the forehead. "I love you and I know that you'll protect them with everything you have." She reaches up and fixes his hair with a small smile on her face. "You're such a good boy."  
  
    "Julia!"  
  
    His mother turns on her heel and she shakes her head. "I am saying goodbye to my son! Do not rush me, Michael!"  
  
    "You wouldn't have to be saying goodbye to him if he did the right thing and came with us."  
  
    His mother clucks her tongue and motions to Artie's van. " _This_ is honorable! _This_ is the son we raised and I am proud. Now come say goodbye to your son."  
  
    "Julia." His father's voice is a bit softer now but she still shakes her head.  
  
    "You are not your father. Hug your son." His father sighs and Brittany and Tina climb back into the car as he walks over. He holds out his hand for Mike to shake and his mother slaps his father's hand. "I said hug," she shouts in Mandarin and his father rolls his eyes before stepping forward.  
  
    "Be safe," he says, hugging him tightly. It's the closest he'll get to an I love you from his dad and that's okay. It's enough for him.  
  
    When they part, his mom hugs him again and he'd almost swear his dad looks at them fondly. "I will call you when we get back okay?"  
  
    Mike nods. "Okay."  
  
    His dad is about to get back in the car when he pauses and then calls for Mike. “You’ll need this,” his father says, handing him the jiàn he had given him earlier. Mike smiles a little and then steps back as his parents pull out of the driveway.  
  
\--  
  
    “What the fuck was that,” Santana asks when she decides the car has been quiet for too long. Quinn’s in the backseat, trying to get a hold of Sam’s parents since the school couldn’t contact them, but all she gets are voicemails and Sam’s gripping the steering wheel so tight it looks like he may hulk out.  
  
    Oh fuck. Not only is crazy shit like Linda Wilde killing their teacher happening, but she’s referencing comics _correctly_.  
  
    She glances back at Quinn who just stares out the window, cell phone pushed desperately against her ear, and then over to Sam, who opens his mouth before closing it again. “What, Evans?”  
  
    He pulls into the parking lot of Lima Elementary, not giving one fuck about parking in a designated space, and when he cuts the engine, he turns to Santana. “Do not laugh, okay?”  
  
    “You know I can’t promise that.” Out of her peripheral vision, she sees Quinn nodding as she redials a phone number.  
  
    Sam rolls his eyes and runs a hand through his hair. “I think a zombie apocalypse is starting.”  
  
    Surprisingly, she doesn’t laugh, mainly because Quinn sighs, “Sam,” before she can get the chance to. “This isn’t the time for-”  
  
    “I’m being serious, you guys.”  
  
    “I don’t see how considering you just said the word zombies,” Santana comments but Sam ignores her and turns to Quinn.  
  
    “Do you remember that one zombie movie I made you watch?”  
  
    Quinn’s eyebrows scrunch together and she briefly stops her frantic calls. “The one with the Nazis?”  
  
    “ _What_ ,” Santana asks and Sam simply shakes his head.  
  
    “The comedy. ‘Shaun of the Dead’.”  
  
    Quinn sighs before shrugging. “Sure.”  
  
    “Do you remember when the step dad got bit? In the neck?”  
  
    Quinn nods and Santana puts her hand up before Sam can say anything really stupid. “Just because it happened in a movie, doesn’t mean you can apply it to real life.”  
  
    “How else can you guys explain what happened back there?”  
  
    “Um, I don’t know, rabies? Your girlfriend got bit three weeks ago. _Clearly_ it’s not the craziest idea.” Sam shakes his head and gets out of the car without another word, making sure to slam the door. Santana scoffs, watching him go into the school. “Zombies,” she says. “He actually fucking said _zombies_ out loud.”  
  
    Quinn lets Sam’s cell phone fall into her lap. “I don’t think this is rabies, S. We have vaccines for that kind of thing. And what happened in Math…” Quinn shakes her head and then leans over the middle console. “That’s not normal.”  
  
    Santana arches an eyebrow, turning so she can look at the blonde clearly. “Are you about to tell me you agree with Sam? Because, so help me God, Q-”  
  
    “No,” she says softly. “But this is obviously something bigger than rabies.” Santana leans over and turns the car on just enough so that the radio will come on. She turns the dial, finding static and the occasional Billboard hit before Quinn reaches over and presses AM. “Try 1160.”  
  
    “Are you fucking eighty? Who the fuck listens to AM,” Santana asks, flipping through the stations.  
  
    “My dad used to listen to it all the time.” Santana shuts up after that because that is so not something she wants to deal with right now.  
  
    After a brief moment of static, a gravely voice filters through the speakers. “The vaccine was delivered to the following states before it was recalled: Massachusetts, New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Maryland, Vermont, West Virginia, Kentucky, Ohio, and Indiana. However, there have only been outbreaks in Massachusetts, Vermont, and West Virginia. There has been no official word from the U.S. government but reports claim that most outbreaks have been contained locally. While the other states are not considered clear, there is no need for evacuation.” Static cuts through the line and Santana turns the car off before the voice comes back through.  
  
    It suddenly feels really still around them. She turns to see if Sam is coming but nobody has come out since he went in. Quinn sinks back into the seat and Santana licks her lips. There’s a playground near the edge of the blacktop, the swings swaying in the wind, and Santana feels a shiver run up her back. “Ohio was on the list,” Quinn whispers and Santana blinks. “They said it was a vaccine.”  
  
    Santana feels her chest, frowning when she realizes her phone isn’t in her bra anymore. She groans, realizing she must have dropped it shortly before they got into the car, after she replied to Brittany. The blonde had assured her she was okay, that she was with the Asian duo and Wheels, and Santana knows that Mike would take care of Britt for her but it’s been too long for her taste since she last talked to Brittany. She grabs Sam’s phone from Quinn’s lap and her fingers move on their own accord, dialing Brittany’s number like a reflex. “Sam?”  
  
    “I lost my phone,” Santana breathes out. “Where are you? Are you okay?”  
  
    “We’re leaving Mike’s right now.” There’s shuffling on the other end and when Brittany speaks again, it’s barely above a whisper. “What’s going on? Mike has this look on his face… Why is-” Brittany lets out a frustrated huff. “Are _you_ okay? You’re not hurt, are you?”  
  
    “No, baby, I’m okay. I’m not sure what’s going on just yet.” The back door opens and she’s about to yell at Quinn to sit her ass back down, but then she sees the Aryan Evans clan coming out of the school. “Where are you going?”  
  
    “I’m not sure,” Brittany answers before her voice drops a little again. “You’ve never called me that before.”  
  
    Santana’s eyebrows furrow. “Yes I have.”  
  
    “Not outside of bed.”  
  
    Her teeth toy with her bottom lip and her blunt nails dig into the arm rest on the door. “I don’t care anymore.”  
  
    Brittany squeals excitedly and she wishes she could see the smile Brittany probably has on her face, but Santana knows she wouldn’t have said that today if shit wasn’t going down.  
  
    She sighs. Better late than never, right?  
  
    “Ask Mike where you’re going.”  
  
    There’s a pause and doors open again, the blonde bunch piling in and making her feel like a red headed stepchild. Stacey waves at her shyly while Stevie mainly ignores her and she hears Quinn fussing for both of them to buckle up when Brittany comes back on the phone. “We’re going to Artie’s and maybe to Tina’s.”  
  
    “Where are we going,” Sam asks from behind the wheel, and Quinn pushes Stevie’s hair out of his face before telling him to head to her house.  
  
    “Meet us at Quinn’s.”  
  
    Quinn perks up in the backseat, shaking her head. “Who all is she with?” She looks at Sam. “I can’t house _everyone_.”  
  
    “Oh my god, it’s four more people, Quinn.”  
  
    “It’s over _half_ the Glee club!”  
  
    “What’s Quinn saying,” Brittany asks.  
  
    “Nothing. I’ll see you at Quinn’s, Britt.”  
  
    There’s silence on the other line and she’s about to hang up when she hears it. “I love you, Santana.”  
  
    It’s like a breath of fresh air. “I love you too.” She hangs up and gives Quinn back the phone who looks torn between asking her about _that_ development or yelling at her more. “Why are you freaking out about people going over?”  
  
    “Do you not remember the woman I live with?” Quinn shakes her head. “I’m already pushing it with you guys coming over.”  
  
    Stacey perks up on the opposite end of the backseat. “Your momma doesn’t like us?”  
  
    Quinn slips on the mask she’s seen many times before, but for once, Santana thinks it’s fitting. “Of course she likes you, sweetie. It’s just she usually naps at this time.”  
  
    Santana rolls her eyes, tapping Quinn’s knee. “If you won’t let them stay, then I’m leaving with them.”  
  
    Quinn frowns, her eyebrows knitting together before she lets out a small breath. “I’ll see what I can do with my mom.” She grabs Santana’s hand for a second, squeezing it lightly before letting it go. Santana nods and turns around in her seat, putting her feet up on the dash.  
  
    Sam puts his hand on her shoulder, giving her a wry smile when she looks at him. “So, found your balls, huh?”  
  
\--  
  
    Puck’s truck sputters to a stop in front of their house and Finn tightens his arms around Rachel, who had to sit on his lap so that they could all fit. Normally, all the squirming Rachel does would totally make him hard but he’s honestly kind of scared shitless right now and he’s just really fucking glad Rachel is this close to him. She leans into his chest and even though her hair is in his face, he kisses her neck three times as Puck turns off the car. “My mom’s freaking out,” he says after he looks at his phone and Finn nods.  
  
    “She want to go to Temple?” Puck rolls his eyes while he nods and Finn smiles a little bit. It’s nice that some things are still the same. “So… we’ll call you?”  
  
    Puck looks out the windshield and chews on the inside of his cheek before nodding again. Rachel clears her throat, tucking her phone into her pocket. “Who am I going with?”  
  
    “I can drop you off at your dads, Rach. My mom’ll understand.”  
  
    Rachel’s hands cover Finn’s arm and shakes her head. “They’re out of town. This is the weekend they go antiquing with my aunt in Columbus.”  
  
    Kurt looks past them and Finn notices him plucking at where his jeans are bunching at the knee. He always jokes about how he’s gonna wear a hole in his pants when he does that and Kurt never fails to roll his eyes and tell him that he respects his clothing. “I think you should go with Puck,” Finn says carefully. Puck and Rachel turn to look at him simultaneously, Rachel’s nails digging into his skin slightly.  
  
    “Are you sure,” she asks, moving a little bit more so she can face him. She cradles his face as he nods and he takes a deep breath, pushing his face into her touch.  
  
    “We’ll probably have to talk to Mom and Dad for a while.”  
  
    Kurt scoffs. “They’re going to think we’re insane.”  
  
    Finn nods and cracks that little smile again that he knows Rachel can’t resist. “Plus Puck’s gonna need you to help him keep his mom from completely melting down.”  
  
    She glances back at Puck who shakes his head, holding his phone up. “Yeah, that’s probably _not_ gonna happen.”  
  
    Kurt looks at the text message Puck has up and then snatches the phone from him. “You’re not _actually_ going to text that to your mother are you?”  
  
    The boys start bickering next to them and he can see the smile begging to be released on her face. He twirls some of her hair around his finger before tugging gently so she’ll look back at him. “Go with Puck. Make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid,” he whispers, sighing when she presses her forehead against his.  
  
    “I would rather stay with you guys,” she admits, kissing the corner of his mouth as Kurt exclaims that he doesn’t care if Puck always talks to his mother like that, it’s still inappropriate.  
  
    “I know, baby, but you and I both know Puck doesn’t do well alone.” She nods a little, nose grazing his before she tucks her head against his neck. “We’re gonna meet back up, okay?”  
  
    “Promise?” He feels the question more than he hears it.  
  
    He takes a deep breath, completely overwhelmed by everything that Rachel is. She’s all he can see, all he can feel, all he can smell. “I promise, Rachel.” When she pulls back just enough, his lips slide over hers, and he smiles when he tastes her strawberry lip gloss.  
  
    “You made me sound like a pussy,” Puck exclaims, causing Rachel to drag herself away from him.  
  
    “I made you sound like a decent human being,” Kurt bites back, pushing Puck’s phone to his chest.  
  
    “You guys,” Finn says, clapping a hand on Kurt’s shoulder. “Come on. We need to go talk to them.”  
  
    Rachel opens up the truck door and hops off his lap. She wraps her arms around his waist once he stands, one hand swinging to grab Kurt’s once he’s out too. “Be careful, boys.” Her hand squeezes his hip before she practically spins into Kurt’s arms, laughing at something he whispers into her ear. She hugs his brother tightly before jumping back in Puck’s truck, smiling at them before Puck drives away.  
  
    Kurt fixes his hair, turning in his boots to look at the house. “Do you have your keys on you?” Finn shoves his hands into his pants and comes up empty. “How on earth did you lose your keys? It’s not like you carry a bunch of things to school.”  
  
    “Oh, I don’t know,” Finn says, reaching over the top of the fence to release the latch. “Maybe it was when I had to kick someone in the _face_ because they were trying to chew on my best friend’s arm like it was a piece of chicken.”  They round the corner of the house and the screen door is open, something that’s not uncommon, because it seems like more often than not, the only one to close it, is his mom. But the actual door is open too and Kurt grabs his elbow before he can go up to the door.  
  
    “Should we really just walk in,” he asks. Finn looks at the doorway, noticing that nothing seems out of place. The laundry room looks fine. The soap he knocked over this morning is still there which is _kind of_ weird since he told his mom that it spilled and she usually cleans stuff like that pretty fast. His mom was exhausted today seeing as she closed _and_ opened for the store, so her not cleaning it up isn’t a big deal. There’s a crash just past the laundry room and Kurt squeezes his arm, trying to pull him back a little. “Finn, I don’t really think…” Finn takes a step forward, peering around the corner so he can see the entire laundry room, the old wooden shelves, the jacket Kurt stained last week laying on a drying rack, his football gear shoved next to the cabinets, and he thinks he sees something move in the kitchen that is definitely _not_ his mom or dad.  
  
    “Uh, yeah,” he whispers, pushing Kurt back towards the garage. “C’mon. We can grab like, a shovel or something.”  
  
    “A shovel?”  
  
    The door to the garage creeks open, the wood splitting at the bottom and Finn really has to shove it to get the door to open wide enough for them to get through. “What do you expect us to find in here? Unless Burt has some guns I don’t know about, a shovel is probably the best thing we’re going to find.” There’s a cup of coffee sitting on the hood of the old pickup their dad’s been working on, right next to the sports section of the paper. Xavier won last night, 74 to 63.  
  
    “He is _always_ leaving his cup in here,” Kurt complains, folding his arms closer to his body.  
  
    Finn shrugs (he totally forgets stuff in here too when he helps Burt out) and walks around the truck to the small collection of garden tools they have. Neither his mom or him have a green thumb so he’s not exactly sure what he’s looking at past the shovel and rake. Kurt saddles up next to him. “Shouldn’t we use a power tool of sorts?”  
  
    “If you want to get that close to them, be my guest and take the power saw.” Finn pulls the shovel out of the bin, testing the metal to make sure it won’t fall off. He hands it off to Kurt who holds it almost loosely and Finn rubs the  back of his neck. Kurt has _some_ strength, especially in his legs thanks to dance, but if they’re _actually_ going up against zombies (God, Finn wishes he could take back that time freshman year when he told Puck a zombie apocalypse would be kind of cool), upper body strength is needed. “Can you jab with that?” Kurt looks at him like he’s crazy and Finn sighs heavily. “If you don’t think you could lift that up and shove it through someone, we need to give you another one of these things.”  
  
    “Can’t we just… Knock them out,” Kurt asks, miming hitting someone over the head and Finn can see the way Kurt struggles vaguely with the motion. Finn moves the rake to the side, no point in using that, and pulls out… Well, he really has no idea what it is but the way it’s shaped probably won’t be helpful in destroying brains.  
  
    “You can’t knock zombies out,” Finn explains, pulling out a pretty lightweight pitchfork. “Why do you guys even have this?”  
  
    They trade garden tools and all ready the pitchfork is a much better suit for Kurt. “My mom and I used to garden,” Kurt answers simply and Finn nods.  
  
    “Come on. Better go see what’s going on.” Kurt grips the pitchfork with two hands, turning to walk out of the garage when Finn notices he still has his book bag on his shoulder. “I’d leave that here,” he says, tugging lightly on the black leather strap.  
  
    “This is Marc Jacobs! I’m not leaving it in here with the dirt and grease and-”  
  
    “Dude, if there’s someone in there that isn’t Mom or Dad, they can grab you by that.” Kurt stares at him for a minute before shaking his head and tightening the strap on his shoulder. “I’m not letting you go in there with that on.”      
  
    “Well you’re not going in there alone,” Kurt counters. He knows he should hold his ground but his focus is completely on his mom right now and they don’t have the time to argue about this.  
  
    Once they’re out of the garage, Kurt lets him go in front. There’s nothing but quiet coming from the house now, a good sign he hopes, and when he starts on the steps, the old wood Burt’s been meaning to replace creaks loudly, stopping him in his tracks. Kurt’s breathing is already labored but Finn holds his breath until he’s sure that nothing is going to pop out from around the corner. They get into the laundry room without any other hesitations. His palms sweat around the wood of the shovel and he takes a few deep breaths when he feels his heart pounding mercilessly against his chest. He can hear something now, low and quiet, but he’s not sure what it is. What he can see of the kitchen still looks normal. The side of the table he and Kurt sit on has been wiped down, their cereal bowls removed and drying on the dish rack next to the sink. There’s still a frying pan on the stove, his mom’s coffee cup (the one he got her for mother’s day when he was 8. Mrs. Puckerman was the one who helped him pick it out) on the counter next to the stove.  
  
    He tilts the shovel so that the pointed tip is protecting him and he doesn’t notice the small trail of blood dripping from the sink until he rounds the corner. There is absolutely no doubt they’re dealing with zombies anymore. The man biting off Burt’s ear is missing the skin on his forearm, revealing straining muscles and a bit of bone near his wrist, and his skin lacks color. “Dad,” Kurt whispers and Finn can feel him backing away from him. The other zombie, a woman Finn realizes, is staring at them with cloudy eyes, her head cocked to the side and it reminds Finn of that one raptor in Jurassic Park. There’s something in her hand, something half eaten, hollow, and bloody. Burt’s torso is almost completely empty and the woman’s other hand is clutching on to what little is left in their dad, practically holding Burt up against the fridge.  
  
    He suddenly feels like he’s back in biology sophomore year. Quinn had barely started to show, he remembers her complaining that morning about her pants not buttoning, but her nausea was still in full force. He was going to have to do the entire dissection while she just took notes since she was barely allowed to be in the same room as the animals and he was _not_ looking forward to it. A lot of the guys found dissections cool but it honestly freaked him out (he imagined the animals coming back to haunt him) and he remembers being so fucking thankful that Quinn threw up the minute she got to their rabbit because they both got exempt from the lab.  
  
    He distinctly remembers the rabbit being pinned against the tray, its skin and fur pulled back to reveal the ribs and organs. The mouth hung open slightly, much like Burt’s is now, and that albinism stuff they used smelled like spoiled milk.  
  
    He barely realizes the woman is quickly crawling towards them until Kurt shrieks. She’s missing a foot and she has a hole in her chest so serious that there’s not even bone there, and her dirty hands reach out for him when he’s close enough. He fights the instinct to go back, instead lurching forward and jabbing the shovel right through the woman’s dead eyes. “Oh my god,” rushes out of Kurt’s mouth when the other zombie stops eating their dad, his mangled, lifeless body dropping to the floor with a wet pop and rushes them.  
  
    The zombie slips in the blood covering the linoleum, giving Finn enough time to pull the shovel from the woman’s skull (it takes four tugs and he has to push off her chest with his foot on the last one before it releases) but the zombie barrels into him anyway. He pushes against the zombie’s shoulders to keep him from biting him but the dead guy is freaky strong and practically drooling on top of him. Finn wants to yell at Kurt to stab the guy but that brings a risk of getting the spit in his mouth which could totally turn him into one of the undead. Thankfully, Kurt doesn’t pass out like Finn thought he might and stabs the zombie in the back. His head jerks to look at Kurt and Kurt just stabs him _again_ , this time in the side. Kurt starts backing up when the pitchfork gets stuck but it’s okay because the zombie is distracted enough for Finn to shove him off. “You can’t just poke them,” he yells, grabbing the shovel and Finn misses the eyes of the guy but the metal rips through his mouth with the force that he comes at Finn, effectively lodging the shovel into his head.  
  
    “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Kurt says in a rush, kneeling down next to Finn once he lets the body land next to him. Kurt pulls his sleeve over his hand and wipes away the bits of spit that landed on Finn’s cheeks before pulling him into a hug. “I didn’t know what to do and I just… I’m sorry.”  
  
    “It’s okay, Kurt.” He gives his brother a tight squeeze before pulling away. “It has to be a head shot. Destroy the brain and you’re good.” Kurt nods and stands back up, helping Finn up too. Finn tries to get the shovel out of the dead guy but it’s no use. It’s lodged in too far and he’s too tired from fending the thing off to try again. He settles for taking the pitchfork out of  his side, twirling it in his hands easily. A trail of blood leads from the kitchen and out towards the living room. He knows he’s not very smart but he already know what he’s going to find once he crosses the threshold. “Go get a few knives, okay? I’m going to see what’s in there.”  
  
    Kurt awkwardly side steps the bodies, muttering something underneath his breath that Finn can’t make out. Finn swallows hard as he approaches the doorway and he stops in his tracks once he sees his mother’s hand next to the coffee table but not the rest of her. “What is it,” Kurt asks. He feels choked and it gets worse when the only thing Kurt says once he sees it too is, “I love you.”  
  
    There’s a groan coming from behind the couch, a man who looks an awful lot like Mr. Karofsky popping up from behind the cushions, his body covered in what Finn can only assume is his mother’s blood.  
  
    He kind of blacks out because the next thing he knows he’s behind the couch too, Mr. Karofsky pinned to the wall behind it, the pitchfork keeping him there through the eyes. He’s sweating a lot and he can’t catch his breath. His vision is a little fuzzy too and it’s not until he looks to his left that he realizes it’s tears.  
  
    Her entire face is gone and so is a lot of her, but that’s his mom lying there.  
  
    It was easier when it was Burt. That man was a father to him but this is his mom and he turns to his right, hunching over as he throws up all over his mom’s carpet.  
  
    Through his tears he can make out Kurt sitting in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, cradling his head in his hands before Finn has to throw up again.  
  
\--  
  
    All the times he imagined Rachel Berry pressed up against him in his truck, his mother and sister were _definitely_ not there too.  
  
    Not that he’s thought about Rachel a lot recently since she’s dating Finn, but he’d be a god damn liar if he said she never popped up in his head when he was jerking it (hell, sometimes she was there with Quinn or Brittany and-)  
  
    He shifts in his seat as he takes a left on Holden. He’s pretty sure they’re in the middle of fucking zompocalypse and he’s getting a hard. What the fuck?  
  
    “Slow down, Noah,” his mother lectures from the passenger seat. Just the sound of her voice is enough to squash any feeling in his pants.  
  
    “Ma, you’re the one who wanted me to drive.” Rachel’s talking quietly to his sister in Yiddish and it’s a good thing his mom seems to be more focused on his driving than what they’re saying because he’s pretty sure his sister just confessed to taking that twenty last week.  
  
    “And I’d like us to get there in one piece.” She clutches on to the door handle, her other arm tightening around Jenna’s waist when he guns it through another yellow light. “Noah, _slow down_.”  
  
    “Do you want to drive? Because we can switch if you’d like.”  
  
    Rachel leans forward next to him and then his mother slaps him up the back of his head. “Could you act like my nice Jewish son for once?”  
  
    “I’m driving to temple aren’t I? Even though it probably would’ve been a lot safer if we’d stayed at the house.  
  
    “It’s important for us to be close to God right now and surrounded by our friends.”  
  
    He opens his mouth to respond but Rachel puts her hand on his knee and subtlety shakes her head. “Okay, Ma,” he breathes out, slowing down as he turns down an alley. His mother nods once before turning her attention to Rachel and asking her how her father feels about her dating a gentile. He can’t help but laugh a little as Rachel sputters through a response and it earns him a pinch in the side.  
  
    “What’s that,” Jenna asks, pointing to a lump in the middle of the alley. It looks like a coat or maybe a garbage bag, and he slows down a little when it moves slightly. He leans over the steering wheel to get a better look just as someone jumps out from behind the dumpster to his left, pouncing on the blob in the middle of the street. Both his mom and Rachel’s hands fly up to cover Jenna’s eyes. He brakes harder than he meant to but nobody seems to complain since Patches is viciously biting into what Puck can only assume is a person.  
  
    Patches looks up at them, a chunk of flesh falling from his mouth, and Puck throws the truck into reverse, speeding out of the alley. “Sorry,” he says once they’re back on the main road before his mom can complain.  
  
    “Just get us where we need to go,” his mom says quietly as Jenna asks what happened. He sort of takes that as an okay to speed the fuck up again and so going around the block instead of through it takes the same amount of time. The alley is visible from the front of the synagogue but he can’t see Patches. He really doesn’t want to get out of the truck because this can’t be safe, but his mom already has the door open by the time he parks. Jenna’s way too big to be held but his mom refuses to put her down, even when his sister complains. “I will once we’re inside safely.”  
  
    He takes Rachel’s hand once she steps out of the truck, keeping them far enough back so that his mom can’t hear them but close enough that if Patches or anyone else jumped out, he could get the girls to safety. “You okay,” he asks and Rachel squeezes his hand with strength he didn’t know she had.  
  
    “This is a dream right?” He looks at her like she’s crazy and she sighs. “I figured it was worth a shot to ask.” She leans into his side as they walk towards the steps. “So… zombies.”  
  
    He nods. “That’s pretty much what it looks like. Unless everyone is just turning into cannibals which would still leave us fucked.”  
  
    Rachel tucks her bottom lip between her teeth. “You know, I’ve prided myself in preparing for almost any role that could be thrown at me, but I really don’t know how to react to this.”  
  
    “This is why you should’ve played Left 4 Dead with us.”  
  
    She glares at him. “I highly doubt that it would’ve helped. It’s not like we have a bunch of guns and stuff now.”  
  
    “It’s no different from the military playing Call of Duty or whatever for training. It’s called a simulation.” She rolls her eyes as he drops her hand, jogging ahead so he can open the door for his mom.  
  
    Rabbi Greenberg is literally right there when he opens it, the man’s eyes wide beneath his thick glasses. “You’ll be the last then,” he tells them, waving them inside. “They keep getting closer and we can’t keep risking opening the doors.” He smoothes down Jenna’s hair and smiles at her softly. “Are you hungry, Jen? Mrs. Cohen has some ponchkes.”  
  
    “With custard or jelly?” Puck smirks. That would’ve been the first question he asked too.  
  
    “Why don’t you go see? I’ll be in there as soon as I lock up.” Rabbi Greenberg puts his hand on Puck’s shoulder as he passes, disappearing down the hall.  
  
    Temple is usually loud because the women constantly gossip but there are a bunch of people here today, way more than usual, and it sounds like a god damn football game, everyone’s yelling so loud. They’re all trying to talk over the others as they speculate what’s going on and every other word he hears is 'terrorist'. On the plus side, there’s a _bunch_ of food, way more than just doughnuts. Puck has absolutely no idea how Jewish women always seem to get so much cooking done so fast when there’s some sort of tragedy but he’s never been more thankful than when he is now. All that running around the school he did coupled with the fact that he skipped breakfast this morning means he’s starving, so he grabs Jenna’s arm before she can run off. “Get me food too,” he whispers and his sister salutes him. She’s totally gonna grab the good things. He taught her well.  
  
    His mother watches Jenna nervously, playing with the star of David around her neck before his little sister disappears in the sea of children around Mrs. Cohen. “Thank you for getting us here, Noah.” He rolls his eyes because, really? Would he really tell his mom to figure it out herself? She swats his arm. “Thank you,” she emphasizes and he mutters a ‘welcome’. She rises on to her tip toes, cradling his face in her hands so that his cheek meets her half way, and leaves a kiss on his cheek. “You’re a good boy.” She pats his cheek before turning to Rachel. “And you’re a good girl, even if you’re dating a gentile.”  
  
    Rachel laughs, shrugging a little. “Thank you for letting me tag along.”  
  
    Her mother tucks Rachel’s hair behind her ears and pushes Rachel’s grown out bangs out of her eyes. “You’re so good with my children! That means you’re always welcome in our family, bekl.” Mr. Weiss calls his mother over and Puck would normally go with her. He really doesn’t trust the guy. He’s always tried to date his mom, even before his dad bailed, and he gives Jenna the creeps which means Puck instantly thinks he’s a pervert who needs to stay the fuck away from his family. But Rachel tugs on his hand and he stays puts.  
  
    “I have to go to the bathroom,” she tells him for some unknown reason (he really doesn’t need to know shit like that) and he stares at her stupidly.  
  
    “And…?”  
  
    She sighs, eyes darting all around the room, her hand tightening around his when there’s a crash near the bimah. “I kind of don’t want to go anywhere alone right now.”  
  
    “Oh, yeah. Okay.” His mom catches his eye when they start walking towards the entrance and he mouths ‘bathroom’. She nods, gives him a small smile, and turns back to Mr. Weiss.  
  
    “I really hope Jenna can score me a custard doughnut,” he says just to fill the silence in the hallway.  
  
    “How can you be so calm right now?” The temple creaks as it settles, causing Rachel to get closer to him, their hands pressed between their hips. “Zombies eat people and we’re people,” she explains like he didn’t already fucking know that.  
  
    “I’m pretty sure if I wasn’t with you guys, I would have physically shit myself already,” he admits and her face crunches at his language but her hand relaxes slightly in his. “Honestly, it kind of helps that I’ve seen worse in movies.”  
  
    “But this isn’t movies, Noah. This is real life.” She pauses and then shakes her head. “I can’t believe I just said that.”  
  
    “Seeing Patches back there was crazy, I’m not going to deny that, but everyone we’ve seen so far look like people. We haven’t seen anyone who looks like a walker yet and those scared the shit out of me.”  
  
    “A walker?” He knocks on the bathroom door, going so far as to check it for her before he lets her step in.  
  
    “It’s what the call zombies in The Walking Dead.” The coast is clear and he holds the door open for her. “You’ll be okay in there?”  
  
    She nods. “But, stay out here, okay?”  
  
    “’Course.” The door closes behind her and his head falls against the wall. The bricks are cool against his skin and suddenly his eyes feel heavy. His phone reads 9:26. He doesn’t even understand how slow time seems to be passing. It feels like it should be so much later. He runs a hand over his eyes, a huge yawn escaping his mouth as everyone in the main room get louder, something he wasn’t sure was possible. But then he hears someone scream and it’s Jenna. He _knows_ it is. The toilet flushes behind the door and he’d never leave Rachel but this is his sister and Rachel’ll get that. He pushes off the wall, half-assedly jogging back towards the open doorway. Another scream filters out ( _not_ Jenna’s) and he’s about to break into a sprint when who he thinks is Mr. Cohen staggers out of the main room. “What’s g-” Mr. Cohen’s head snaps towards him, an audible _crack_ accompanying the movement, and he blinks at Puck slowly, his fingers flexing at his sides.  
  
    Puck doesn’t remember Mr. Cohen being in the synagogue.  
  
    Puck swallows hard, looking around him for anything that could help him keep this guy away from him. There’s a few coat racks behind Mr. Cohen which won’t help unless he can get to them without being bitten. He really shouldn’t have left the truck without grabbing the tire iron from the bed, but his mom was walking away and _fuck_ , why didn’t he grab _anything_? He shoves his hands in his pockets and lets out a breath when he finds his switchblade. It’s not much and he tries not to think about the fact that if this was a video game, he wouldn’t make it past this challenge.  
  
    Mr. Cohen steps toward him slowly, a wide grin stretching across his face as he inhales deeply. He dashes towards Puck then, hands greedily stretching out to grab him. Puck manages to slice his face (which isn’t at all what he was going for) and kick him back with enough force that Mr. Cohen drops the hold he managed to get on Puck’s arms.  
  
    Puck stumbles into the open doorway as Mr. Cohen tries to get back to his feet. He has never seen temple in such a state of chaos before.  
      
    His eyes search frantically for his mom and sister but he can’t find them. His throat tightens, his grip on the blade in his hand slacking for a second as he watches people he used to know attacking their friends and family. Rabbi Greenberg’s body is literally being ripped apart by the Katz’s oldest daughter and Mr. Weiss, his blood spilling onto the wooden floors and staining Mr. Weiss’ white shirt. To the right, Mrs. Cohen and Mrs. Dreyfus are clawing into Mr. Geller, who he’s almost positive is, _was_ , the oldest living resident of Lima. There’s a mass of bodies near the ark and there’s so many different people screaming that it starts sounding like white noise.  
  
    He still can’t fucking see his mom or sister.  
  
    “Noah?” He and Mr. Cohen turn at the sound of Rachel’s voice, her head poking out from the bathroom. Mr. Cohen darts towards her and Puck can see her eyes widen. She’s just going to stand there, he knows she is. He runs towards Mr. Cohen, turning the blade in his hand, and just as Mr. Cohen is about to leap, jumps on to the older man’s back, stabbing into the side of his skull. They fall to the ground and he twists the serrated blade until he feels the body beneath him go slack. “Oh my god,” Rachel mutters and he looks over his shoulder to see Mrs. Dreyfus coming down the hall.  
  
    “Go,” he shouts, shoving her back into the bathroom when he gets to his feet. He locks the door behind them and she stands in the middle of the bathroom, her eyes wide like she still doesn’t believe that this is actually happening. He sees the window behind her just as the door jumps. “You can fit through that right?” She follows his line of sight and her fingers tighten around the fabric of her dress as she nods.  
  
    He gives her a boost to the window sill and it’s not until she’s halfway out that she turns and asks, “Can _you_ fit through this?”  
  
    The door struggles in the frame. “I _have_ to.” He climbs up to the window sill just as she jumps down. He tosses her his car keys and she has to dig them out of the mud because she fumbled the catch. What’s really getting him is that he’s too fucking tall to get out of this window and when he tries to shrink, it makes him too wide. Rachel keeps nervously glancing at him and then at the street just beyond the bushes, jumping each time there’s a crash against the bathroom door.  
  
    “You need to exhale,” she whispers.  
  
    “What,” he asks, holding his breath as he tries to push himself out again.  
  
    “Breathe out. It’ll make you smaller.” That makes about no fucking sense to him but she just looks up at him and her eyes just about tear him apart. “Trust me, Noah.” He breathes out, grappling against the brick frame around the window, and with a shift of his leg, he falls out of the window. He actually looks like an idiot compared to the way Rachel popped out of the window but he can’t give a fuck right now because they’re both out of the building.  
  
    Rachel sticks close to him as they run to his truck but then pauses awkwardly once they get to it. “Did you want to…” She holds his keys out towards him but then looks up at his face and her eyebrows stitch together, her free hand coming up to cradle his face. “Get in the truck.”  
  
    By the time he slams the door shut, he’s sobbing. Rachel reaches out for him, the truck swerving a little as she does it, but she straightens out once his hand is in hers. “ Sh'ma Yis'ra'eil Adonai Eloheinu Adonai echad.” He has no idea where they’re going and for the first time, he can’t recognize the town he’s lived in his entire life. “Barukh sheim k'vod malkhuto l'olam va'ed.” Rachel’s hand squeezes his, her thumb running softly over his skin right before she pulls over. She doesn’t cut the engine, instead just slides across the seat and wraps her arms around him, his head tucking into the space between her neck and shoulder. One hand rubs circles into the middle of his back, the other flexing over the curve of his head, and he can feel her lips form every word against his cheek. “V'ahav'ta eit Adonai Elohekha b'khol l'vav'kha uv'khol naf'sh'kha uv'khol m'odekha.”  
  
    He squeezes his eyes shut and bites down on his bottom lip in an effort of muffle the scream that explodes out of him. It just makes Rachel hold him tighter and she continues with the prayer as her dress soaks up his tears.  
  
\--  
  
  
    Santana may have met her match with Stevie. He knows that she can be crueler and that his little brother is actually a pretty good kid, but watching them verbally spar from across the island in the Fabray kitchen is pretty entertaining. Plus, he has to give it to Santana for keeping all her comments appropriate for the kids’ ears. “This is an ugly sandwich,” Stevie says once Santana slides the plate in front of him.  
  
    She licks a bit of peanut butter from her finger as she drops the knife into the sink. “Your sweatshirt is ugly,” she weakly counters. “Besides, you’re just going to eat it anyway. Who cares what it looks like?”  
  
    “My mom cuts them into dinosaur shapes.” He stares at the sandwich, his nose upturning slightly as he crosses his arms over his chest. “You even left the crust on!”  
  
    “I’m not your mother, I don’t love you enough to do any of that.” Santana brings the other plate over to Sam and Stacey at the table, smiling a little when Stacey thanks her. “If the crust really bothers you, I’ll take it off, but I’m not doing the dino thing.”  
  
    “I bet this isn’t even going to taste good.” Stevie pushes the plate towards her and Sam’s about to tell him to just eat the damn sandwich, but Santana shakes her head when she notices him open his mouth.  
  
    “I actually make the best peanut butter and jelly you’ll ever have, sweet cheeks.”  
  
    “Doubtful,” he sighs, watching as Santana tears the crust of with her hands. “Your hands aren’t clean and you’re touching my food.”  
  
    “Doubtful? Sounds like a big word for someone with such a tiny head.” She pulls tosses the crust on to a paper towel, flicking Stevie in the head before she gets up to throw it away. “I will give you $100 if that’s not the best PB &J you’ve ever had, even with microscopic bits of my spit.”  
  
    Stacey picks up a half of her sandwich and bites off the corner. A huge smile envelops her face as she chews and she holds it to Sam’s lips. “It’s so good, Sammy!” He takes a small bite. It’s actually really delicious. “Stevie, just take a bite. It’s yummy!” Soon the half in Stacey’s hands is gone and Santana is smiling as she wipes down the counter.  
  
    Stevie tears off a piece of the sandwich, inspecting it closely before he puts it in his mouth, chewing experimentally. They’re all intently focused on him and Sam has to hold down his laughter when Stevie looks back at him with that look he always gets when he’s cranky. “It’s really good,” he whispers.  
  
    Santana’s still smirking a few minutes later when Quinn walks into the kitchen slowly. Her eyes are red and she’s pulled her hair back into a ponytail. “C’mon hooligans. Let’s go watch some TV.” Stacey gladly moves when Santana starts waving them out of the room but Stevie glares and demands to be called by his name. “Not gonna happen, kid. I don’t even call your brother by his name.” Stevie looks over at him but Sam just nods for Stevie to follow their sister and he sighs loudly, dragging his feet all the way to the living room. Santana sets a plate of two sandwiches down at the table and then runs her hand over Quinn’s shoulder as she passes. “Eat up, Q.”  
  
    “Her jewelry is gone,” she says as she sits down next to him. “Emergency money’s gone too.”  
  
    “I’m sorry, Quinn.”  
  
    She shrugs. “I’m used to my mom abandoning me.” Sam puts his arm around the back of Quinn’s chair, holding out half a sandwich for her to take. He knows they’re not dating anymore, aren’t anything more than friends, but he still worries like crazy about her. She doesn’t eat enough, apparently only did when she was pregnant, and he knows she didn’t eat breakfast this morning (when he told her he didn’t eat, she gave him the fruit she brought with her). He doesn’t understand how she can run on such little food, but really, that might come in handy if they’re in a zombie apocalypse.  
  
    She almost smiles as she looks at the sandwich. “Santana used to make these all the time for us.” He moves the sandwich closer to her mouth and she takes a decent bite, running her tongue over her lips once she’s done chewing. “It was the only thing I kept down for a long time when I was pregnant. Santana refused to keep making them for me once I asked her to add bacon to them.” She takes another bite but she’s already disappeared inside her head.  
  
    He kisses the side of her head. “Please eat the rest of the sandwich.” She nods but doesn’t look at him, just keeps staring into empty space. He grabs his sandwich, only going into the sitting room once Quinn takes another bite. Stevie is sitting as far away from Santana as possible but Stacey has her feet drumming against Santana’s thighs, her eyes falling shut every once in a while.  
  
    “Anything from Brittany?” Sam shakes his head, sitting on the other end of the couch. He digs his phone out of his pocket as Stacey reaches for the hand closest to her. Her tiny finger outlines each line on his palm and he feels Santana staring at them before going back into the kitchen.  
  
    His phone buzzes. Puck’s asking where he’s at and even though Quinn had a meltdown earlier about people coming over, he tells Puck’s troupe to meet them there. He double checks his messages after that, just to make sure there wasn’t a text or call he missed.  
  
    There’s nothing from his parents or Mercedes.  
  
    The doorbell rings, followed closely by Brittany’s voice. “Why did you ring? This is Quinn’s house,” she says and soon the foyer is full of people. Artie has two duffles on his lap and the girls’ arms are full of what he thinks are groceries.  
  
    “You guys go shopping?” Quinn takes the bags from Brittany’s arms, allowing her to hug Santana fiercely, and motions for Tina to follow her.  
  
    “I blocked the door with the van,” Mike says with a small shrug. “Figured it couldn’t hurt.”  
  
    “This is actually happening isn’t it?” They look down at Artie, who adjusts his glasses. “We’re actually going to have to talk about what to do to survive.”  
  
    “Do you have the book?”  
  
    Sam nods. “Hasn’t left my backpack since I bought it.”  
  
    “What book,” Brittany asks, her fingers lacing with Santana’s.  
  
    “Zombie Survival Guide,” Sam answers and Santana rolls her eyes.  
  
    “They keep that in the humor section.”  
  
    “Somehow, I don’t think Max Brooks is laughing now.”  
  
    The front door opens and he didn’t even realize Mike was carrying something until a machete is raised in front of him. “Oh my god, _Michael_!” Rachel clutches at her heart, only coming around the door once Mike puts the blade away. “We need someone to move the van.”  
  
    Mike nods and the two disappear just as Quinn and Tina come back. “Where’s Mike?”  
  
    “The rest of Glee has arrived.”  
  
    Sam’s surprised when Quinn doesn’t complain about the crowd, but instead asks, “Mercedes is with them?”  
  
    Rachel comes back in, arms full of various garden tools that dwarf her. She looks at Sam carefully and he exhales with his entire body. The thought had been in the back of his mind all day. Frankly, it was too much of a coincidence that there was a rabies outbreak in Lima late last month and now people are apparently zombies. “She…” They all look at Rachel and he can see her aching to reach out and touch him. “Puck saw her in the nurse’s office.”  
  
    He nods, swallowing hard as Tina slips her hand into his. “She hadn’t been feeling well since…” She trails off but squeezes his hand tighter.  
  
    “Rachel, you can throw those wherever you want,” Quinn says softly once they’ve been quiet for too long.  
  
    “But you have white carpet.”  
  
    Quinn rolls her eyes. “Kind of not worried about stuff like that now.”  
  
    The guys walk into the house, looking like complete shit. Their eyes are red, their clothes dirty. Sam realizes that this is worse than he thought and he’s working on borrowed time now. “C’mon,” he says. “We should probably all talk in the kitchen.”  
  
\--  
  
    They’re obviously not dealing with solanum. Based on the news reports the girls heard and what Mike’s dad told him, Sam’s certain this was a mutation in the rabies vaccine. Even though the Zombie Survival Guide outlines some zombie basics, they’re obviously dealing with a different breed. According to Finn they still produce saliva (“They have _a lot_ of spit,” Finn says as Kurt nods on the other side of Rachel), which makes sense considering the virus stemmed from rabies, and they frenzy, which should be impossible according to the book, but he realizes that the realm of impossibilities is the norm right now.  
  
    Quinn walks in and he pauses. “They’re completely captivated by the movie,” she assures him and he nods, turning back to the group as she sits down next to him.  
  
    “Most of these rules _should_ apply to what we’ll be dealing with.” He flips through his well worn copy of the book until he gets to the section describing zombie characteristics. “Their sight, while they still have it anyway, is movement based.”  
  
    “Like dinosaurs,” Finn asks and Sam shakes his head.  
  
    “They’ve pretty much proven that’s _not_ the case with dinosaurs.” Rachel pats Finn’s arm. “Zombies have amazing hearing. Like, Daredevil levels of hearing.”  
  
    Santana raises her hand. “In non-geeky terms please.”  
  
    “They have the hearing of blind people,” Puck answers.  
  
    “Why couldn’t you just say that?”  
  
    Sam shuts the book and stares at her. “Would you like to do this?”  
  
    “Read from a book? Yeah, I think I’m capable of doing that.”  
  
    “San.” Santana sighs but shuts up. Brittany smiles at him from across the table as her fingers tangle with Santana’s. “Go ahead, Sam.”  
  
    “They also have a great sense of smell. According to this, they can smell a fresh corpse from more than a mile away. They will eat animals but, I guess it’s like comparing dog food to steak, so…” He flips through a few more pages. “Oh, and technically they shouldn’t be able to climb but because they frenzy, I’m not sure if that still applies.”  
  
    “Is that good,” Artie asks. “That they can’t climb?”  
  
    Sam nods. “If they can’t climb, we could knock out the stairs and be safe on the second story. If they can…” If they can, then they’re fucked. There is no way around that but he really can’t bring himself to say that out loud. “They can’t heal, which I’m pretty sure you guys already knew… They don’t have touch receptors.” He really doesn’t think his friends need to know about the bowel movements of zombies so he skips past all that until he gets to the actual survival portion of the book. “Headshots are what kill. Destroy the brain, destroy the zombie.”  
  
    Quinn kind of laughs next to him. “Sorry, I just really can’t wrap my head around the fact that we’re having a serious discussion about all of this.” A few smiles pop up from around the table and Quinn shakes her head.  
  
    “We should go collect supplies,” Mike says.  
  
    “Definitely. People are probably looting as we speak. We’ll need to stock up on food, weapons, other necessities like toilet paper.”  
  
    Rachel looks between Finn, Kurt, and Puck. “Some of us should probably stay here. It can’t be safe for all of us to go. Plus Stacey and Stevie shouldn’t be out there.”  
  
    “I’m dead weight out there,” Artie chimes in. “I’d be more than happy staying here.” Brittany volunteers to stay too and he watches as Santana immediately relaxes next to the blonde. Finn and Kurt want to stay too and judging by how they look, that’s for the best. Sam doesn’t know what happened, but if they’re focused on something else, they’ll do more harm than good out there. Where Finn goes, Rachel goes, and she tries to get Puck to hang back too.  
  
    “We can’t just send out Mike and Sam,” he tells her. “No offense girls, but I’d feel better knowing there’s just as many guys going as girls.”  
  
    “Noah-”  
  
    Puck shakes his head. “I’m going with them.”  
  
    “We should clean you up a bit if you’re coming with,” Quinn says before look at Finn and Kurt. “You guys should clean up too.” Rachel takes the boys’ hands as Quinn leads the way with Puck at her side.  
  
    “What do we do when we stay here,” Brittany asks. “Just wait?”  
  
    Sam runs a hand through his hair, scratching at the back of his head. “I’d move anything we could need upstairs. Probably even the fridge if you guys can do it. Though we might be able to find some mini fridges.”  
  
    “We brought any dry food we could find from our houses,” Tina adds.  
  
    “Good. We need things like that. You guys should probably try and take out the stairs too. We can grab a ladder when we’re out.”  
  
    “Is that even safe?”  
  
    He shrugs. “Safer than zombies, I guess.”  
  
\--  
  
    He says it as calmly as he can once he’s alone with Puck. “I think I’m infected.” Puck stops walking, turning to look at Sam. “I’m not sure, but I definitely kissed Mercedes yesterday and if…”  
  
    Tina and Mike are off collecting things like soap while Santana and Quinn are getting food. They were going to the hunting section of Wal-Mart but decided to stop at the kitchen section which is surprisingly and stupidly untouched. Sam clears the shelf of knife sets, dropping them all into one of the carts Puck punched a man for. He looks at the rest of the aisle for anything they could use as Puck just stares at him. “But you could be fine?”  
  
    Sam shakes his head, a lame laugh escaping him. “Realistically, probably not.”  
  
    “You weren’t vaccinated though,” Puck says and Sam knows he’s smarter than that but he can’t fault Puck for being in denial.  
  
    “All it seems to take is some spit.”  
  
    Sam pushes his cart, grabbing on to the end of Puck’s before rounding the corner. Puck grabs a meat cleaver from an end cap and swallows hard. “How’re you feeling?”  
  
    “For now? Okay. But so was Mercedes for a few days.”  
  
    “I can’t kill you.” Sam looks back at Puck who is just shaking his head, his face paling. “I _can’t_.”  
  
    “I don’t expect you to… The minute I don’t feel okay, I’m gone.”  
  
    “Like…”  
  
    Sam nods a little, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I won’t do it near the house, but I’m taking one of the guns and-”  
  
    “Stop.” Puck presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I can’t listen to you say shit like that either. This is too fucking much for today. First my family, now you.” He sits down on the shelving, threading his hands together on the top of his head. “What about Stacey and Stevie?”  
  
    “Well I kinda thought you and Quinn would-”  
  
    “I meant what do we tell them,” Puck cuts in. “God, it’s not even a fucking question of what we do _with_ them. Q loves those kids.”  
  
    “Tell them I went to look for our parents… I don’t know, Puck.” He shrugs, eyes darting to the man who just appeared at the end of the aisle. He’s staring at their carts and Sam starts shaking his head. “Don’t even think about it,” Sam says, picking up the meat cleaver from the cart.  
  
    “What’re you gonna do with that,” he asks and Puck stands up, cracking his knuckles.  
  
    “Want to find out?”  
  
\--  
  
    Mike pushes the cart as Tina hangs onto the end of it, swiping as many things as she can into the cart. So far they’ve gotten what they need and she finds that people seem to be less likely to get in their way with their weapons drawn. “Do you think we should get first aid stuff,” she asks, dropping a few extra deodorants into their cart. “I mean, if we get bitten we have bigger problems than whether or not we have bandaids, but if we encounter any looters it could help, right?”  
  
    Mike smiles and nods. “Good idea.” He’s about to go straight to the first aid aisle but Tina puts her foot down to stop him.  
  
    “We’re gonna need to stock up on tampons.” Mike’s face scrunches up and Tina shrugs as she hops off the cart. “Fact of life, Mike. We’re not going to stop bleeding just because there’s zombies.” She has her own preference but she really doesn’t know about the other girls. She decides to just grab a bunch of variety packs, grabbing a few packages of pads just in case.  
  
    “You think we should get condoms?”  
  
    “Are you really thinking about sex right now,” Tina asks, rearranging the twenty or so boxes in the cart so she can fit the entire shelf.  
  
    “No, but you watched The Walking Dead. I really don’t want a Lori situation for anyone.”  
  
    Tina nods. “I’d definitely go get some.” She goes through her mental check list: Candles? Check. Soap? Check. Shampoo and conditioner? Check. Fuckton of hand sanitizer? Check. Toothpaste along with toothbrushes (specifically character ones for the kids)? Check. Tampons? Check. Mike throws in about ten boxes of condoms into the basket, which seems like way too many, but, then again, she overdosed on tampons because she didn’t know the girls’ situation down there. “Can you think of anything else?”  
  
    “Besides TP and the first aid stuff? No.”  
  
    “We’re all going to be okay, right,” she asks as Mike grabs an abandoned cart from the middle of the walkway. A woman tries to take it from him and without hesitation, Tina swats her in the ass with her shovel. “Back off.”  
  
    “Did you just hit my wife?” A big, bear looking man steps out of the next aisle. Mike starts to let go of the cart since it’s really not worth the fight (he has no problem carrying the toilet paper they’re going to get) but Tina glares at him before turning her attention back to the man.  
  
    “My boyfriend got to it first.” The guy sizes Mike up, laughing a little as he continues toward the cart. Tina swings the shovel, hitting the man in his chest with the back of the spade, and he hunches over, all breath leaving his body. “Go at him again. I dare you.”  
  
    “Are you crazy,” the woman asks as she rushes toward her husband. Tina shrugs before waving for Mile to follow her.  
  
    “Is it weird that I found that hot,” Mike whispers in her ear once they get to the first aid aisle and Tina has to admit, it’s nice to laugh while she still can.  
  
\--  
  
    “Ride with me,” Puck asks as they’re loading up the back of his truck. They haven’t spoken a lot since last summer. Seeing each other is hard enough and they’re honestly not sure how to talk to one another without mentioning those eight months (actually talking about their baby is worse). They always talk out of need, not want, and so she nods, taking another mini fridge from him and sliding it in the truck.  
  
    She sees Santana start to say something when Quinn slides into the truck but then Sam puts his hand on her shoulder (to which Santana pushes it off) and says something Quinn can’t hear.  
  
    It’s really quiet in the cab on the truck and it makes her itch uncomfortably. Puck hasn’t looked at her since they pulled out of the parking lot, turning left towards her house while everyone else turned right in hopes of getting more weapons from the Artillery Shed over on North Cole street, and she can see him clenching his jaw from the corner of her eye. “What aren’t you telling me,” she asks, keeping her gaze out the window. They haven’t had a lot of rain and so the farmland they drive through is different shades of brown, the dead vegetation creeping up the rotted wooden posts and tangling in the low lying barbed wire. There’s a goat roaming the dry dirt and when Quinn notices a body on the other side of the pen, she looks down at her lap.  
  
    “Sam’s going to kill himself.”  
  
    Her head snaps up and his hands grip the steering wheel tighter, his leg shaking a little bit worse than it was before. He refuses to look at her. “That’s not funny.”  
  
    “It’s not supposed to be.”  
  
    He swallows hard and she shakes her head, her arms crossing tightly underneath her chest. “Sam wouldn-”  
  
    “He’s infected.” Puck finally looks over at her and she wishes he’d go back to paying attention to the road. She’s seen Puck cry more than anyone else so she knows what’s going to happen based on how red the tops of his ears are. “Basically as soon as he feels it coming, he’s gone. We pretty much decide what to tell the kids.”  
  
    “We?”  
  
    “Still terrified of raising kids with me,” he snaps, leaning over to pull an old pack of cigarettes out of the glove compartment. “He suggested telling them he’s going to look for his parents but if you have a better suggestion…” She pushes in the truck lighter for him just so she can focus on something other than what he just said.  
  
    Sam _can’t_ do this to any of them. Aside from the fact that he’s the only one with the knowledge to help them survive, he’s _Sam_. He takes care of her and Santana even though he shouldn’t. The two of them especially have been horrible to him but he’s there for her whenever she needs him, no questions asked. When she thinks about it, he’s helped all of Glee club at one time or another and didn’t expect anything in return. It was like pulling teeth to get him to accept help from her and Kurt earlier this year even though he’s done more for her than he probably realizes (she’d never be able to repay him). And, god, she never thought she’d say this, but she’s not sure she wants to go back to the days where she doesn’t learn some useless comic trivia.  
  
    The lighter pops out. “Pull over,” she whispers. He doesn’t question it, seen her throw up enough times to know there isn’t a big window between the words and the action. They’ve barely stopped when she throws open the door and she heaves four times before anything comes up. It’s not much, she hasn’t really eaten since lunch the day before, and the bile burns her throat. The cigarette bounces off the edge of the truck and falls into the vomit. One of Puck’s hands gather her hair the best he can, his other hand rubbing circles against her lower back. That part isn’t really necessary anymore now that she’s not curved awkwardly to accommodate a swollen stomach, but the familiarity is nice. The feeling calms her down more than the action itself and she takes a few deep breaths before finally sitting up. “I’m sorry.” He rolls his eyes and she slams the door shut, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “We’ll use the lie he came up with.”  
  
    Puck takes her gross hand in his, squeezing it tightly before she laces their fingers together. “I kind of missed you, Q.”  
  
    She hates to admit it, but she feels the same way. “We’re going to have to get the kids clothes,” she says, looking over at him. “I didn’t even think about it. Everyone needs to have at least two outfits.”  
  
\--  
  
    Being in Quinn Fabray’s house is beyond weird. Downstairs was common ground but now Rachel is walking down the hall the blonde walks down every morning on her way to the bathroom, her arms full of blankets that smell like musk and the Fabray house. Brittany looks at home in Quinn’s room as she passes, sitting on the large bed with the kids on either side of her. Rachel wonders if the awkwardness will ever fade or if she’s doomed to spend the rest of her days unbelievably uncomfortable in the place she supposes is now home.  
  
    She blows her bangs out of her eyes as she walks into the guest bedroom. She and Kurt sent Finn in here to sleep after he helped Brittany move Artie and a couch upstairs and she sags onto the mattress when his eyes blink open. “Hello, gorgeous,” she whispers, pushing back his slightly damp hair. He doesn’t say anything, just wraps an arm around her waist and she curls into his body, pressing her lips over his still beating heart.  
  
    He grips her tight enough to hurt but she says nothing. It doesn’t feel like they’re close enough, though the space between them is scant. She wishes her verbosity would kick in but all the words that flutter through her head aren’t enough, just like their crushing bodies.  
  
    “I’m an orphan.” His words are garbled in her hair and she sinks her nails into him.  
  
    “But you’re loved,” she says softly. “I’m still here to love you. Kurt is still here to love you. You have your brother, baby.” Though he barely nods, she feels every muscle movement it takes.  
  
    There’s a soft knock on the door and Tina pokes her head in. “Just letting you know we’re back,” she whispers once she gets a good look at them and Rachel waits until she hears the door close again to move.  
  
    “I’m going to go help them. Do you want me to send in Kurt?” He nods again, this one more definite than the last and she untangles herself from his body, kissing him gently before slipping out of the room.  
  
\--  
  
    He wants to tell Quinn the kids really don’t need their own room, especially since four people are cramming in her sister’s room, but she was adamant about giving them their space.  
  
    They’re tucked under Quinn’s comforter, in Quinn’s bed which is about to become their own, talking about Spongebob or something and he needs to say goodbye before he progresses to the point where swift action is needed. He can’t bring himself to enter the room just yet and he leans into the doorframe, listening to Stacey defend Mrs. Puff against Stevie’s endless tirade against the blowfish (Sam’ll never understand that kid’s beef with that cartoon character).  
  
    There were days when their incessant babbling drove him insane but it serves now as part of a soundtrack he wishes he could loop forever.  
  
    (The rest of the soundtrack would include the Star Wars theme, that old Supremes song Quinn and Mercedes sang when they were cooking in Mercedes’ kitchen the last week of July, the conversation his parents had with him before his first day of McKinley where they told him how proud they were of him, and a line from that completely non-canonical Captain America mini series he read ‘Courage, honor, loyalty, sacrifice. You’re braver than you think.’)  
  
    “Sammy, tell Stevie to stop being mean to me!”  
  
    “I’m not being mean, _you’re_ being stupid.”  
  
    “I think you’re both kind of cranky because of everything that happened today,” Sam says, dropping down on the foot of the bed. “You guys should try and get some sleep.”  
  
    Stevie wiggles beneath the covers and Stacey holds her hand out for Sam to take. “How long is this sleepover going to be, Sammy?” Shrugging isn’t a good enough answer for his little sister and she sighs as she pats his hand rhythmically. “Can I tell you a secret?”  
  
    “Of course.” She sits up, scooting closer to him. The blankets go with her and Stevie huffs and puffs as he makes a big deal about pulling the blankets back over him.  
  
    Stacey cups her hand around his ear. “I don’t like how the stairs are gone.” She pulls back to look at him with a pout on her face and she pushes her hair back, only for it to fall back into place. “It’s scary. Looking down now.”  
  
    “I know.” He pulls her into his lap and she nuzzles close. “But it’s so that we can stay safe.”  
  
    Stevie crosses his arms beneath his head. “Safe from what?”  
  
    Quinn and Puck and, really, everyone in this house, are going to be taking care of these two from now on. They’ll have to make sure they’re fed and safe and clothed and they’ll have to deal with being asked when he is coming back with their parents. The least he can do is save them the ground work on this.  
  
    His fingers drag through Stacey’s hair. There are tons of knots and he tries to pull them apart as gently as he can. “Are there monsters, Sammy?”  
  
    Stevie scoffs. “Mom and Dad said there’s no such things as monsters.”  
  
    Sam sighs and Stacey squirms in his lap as Stevie sits up. “Before today, there were no monsters. But now there are, but they can’t get you if you stay up here.”  
  
    “How do you know?”  
  
    “He knows because he reads, stupid,” Stevie says, shaking his head.  
  
    Stacey climbs out of his lap and stands on the bed, grabbing both of her brothers’ hands. Her face twitches and then her big blue eyes fill with tears. “What about Mommy? What about Daddy?”  
  
    “I’m going to go find them.”  
  
    Stevie folds his arms across his chest and Sam realizes just how much he’s swimming in the shirt Quinn picked up for him. “Do you know how to fight the monsters?”  
  
    Stacey clutches his shirt, tugging on the fabric. “What if you get hurt, Sammy?”  
  
    “I won’t get hurt,” he says, patting his chest. “Captain America taught me all the best ways to fight.” Sam watches as Stevie relaxes and Stacey drops back down, bouncing a little on the mattress. “I want you to listen to Quinn and Puck while I’m gone okay? You need to be good for them and do what they say, even if you don’t like it. They’re just trying to keep you safe.”  
  
    Stevie pulls his arms into his shirt. “Are the monsters scary?”  
  
    Stacey rolls her eyes. “If they weren’t scary, they wouldn’t call them monsters.”  
  
    Stevie leans over to shove her but Sam swats his hand away. “Some are scarier than others, but you shouldn’t ever have to see them. But they’re strong, so it might be a little while before we can leave.” The kids look around the room and the worry is written over every feature. He misses their smiles already. “I’m going to leave after you guys fall asleep, okay?”  
  
    “When will you be back?”  
  
    Sam shrugs. “I don’t know. However long it takes me to find Mom and Dad.”  
  
    The kids scoot back in the bed and Sam covers them up again. They tell him they love him and he watches them for hours.  
  
\--  
  
    It’s funny, who ends up being able to sleep. He’s pretty sure Kurt, Rachel, and Finn are knocked out. Brittany and Santana are tangled up on their makeshift bed. He’s not sure which one is snoring softly, but he’d put money on Santana. Artie seemed like he’d be up for a while, same with Tina and Mike. Quinn tosses and turns next to him, stilling the moment there’s a soft knock on the door. He crawls over her just so he doesn’t have to figure out a way to get around the two on the ground. The first thing he sees when he opens the door, is the shiny metal sticking from Sam’s pocket. “Fuck,” he breathes out and Sam gives him one of those smiles that’d be really small on anyone else but takes up half his face.  
  
    There’s the tiniest touch on his back and then Quinn is looking over his shoulder. “It’s cold out, Sam.”  
  
    “You guys need it more. I left it in the kids’ room.” He coughs a bit, careful to cover his mouth and, fuck. Puck wraps his arms around Sam and pulls him in for a hug. It’s not a bro hug, it’s a real, heavy, hearty hug. The kind of hug he would’ve given his mom if he’d known…  
  
    “I’m gonna miss you.”  
  
    Sam claps him on the back and when they pull apart, he shoves a crumpled piece of paper into Puck’s hand. “I’m sorry I have do this to you.”  
  
    Puck shrugs. “Thank you for saying goodbye.” Quinn pushes past him gently and gives Sam a kiss on the forehead. She curls into herself after that and Puck can feel her watching as he and Sam walk over to where the staircase used to be. Puck carefully lowers down the ladder and when Sam takes that first step down, Quinn disappears into the room where Stacey and Stevie are sleeping. He thinks he hears someone moving in one of the other rooms but it stops after a second and no one shows themselves. Sam lifts the ladder up for him to grab. “Where are you gonna be?”  
  
    “Everything you need to know is on that paper.” Puck nods and grabs the ladder, leaning it back against the wall. Sam looks back at him once before he goes out the front door and Puck tries not to think about how this is the last time he’ll see Sam alive.  
  
\--  
  
    The walls in her house are far from thin but she can hear everything. Every time the house settles it sounds like a gunshot (she tries not to use that comparison though) and when Artie coughs, she can hear it as if he’s sitting next to her instead of down the hall. She can even distantly hear the frogs croaking loudly from the marsh across the street. It seems like they’ve been trying to build houses on the land for as long as Quinn can remember but every time there’s word of a new development, it gets shot down and the frogs croak louder.  
  
    Stevie rolls over, his arm curling around his sister and Quinn finds herself pushing further into the chair she’s sitting in. Sam’s note lays on her lap, his careful scrawl explaining what he’s told them already and there’s a paragraph for all four of them. Puck read his part, had to before he left, and she’s skimmed what little he wrote to his brother and sister, but she can’t look at hers. Just seeing her name written down was enough to make her tear up and she folded it up quickly, the crunch of the paper causing the kids to stir just for a moment.  
  
    The front door closes. She slips out of her bedroom, padding down the hall to the wreckage. Puck looks up at her and she eases down the ladder. He moves slowly and when he gets to the top, he sits on the ledge. It worries her, she briefly imagines the floor giving out, and she sits down next to him. “The kids still asleep?” She nods, her hand hesitantly sitting on top of his. His hand is freezing and it takes her a minute to realize that his knuckles are bleeding. Puck won’t look at her, not even when she brings his hand up to her face, trying to make out just how serious his wounds are with what little light filters into the house. “I’m sorry you’re always stuck with me.” She looks up at him but he pulls away from her. He’s slow getting to his feet but he does and when he closes himself in the bathroom, she stays where she’s at.  
  
    She looks back down at her hand only to discover she’s shaking, the blood drying in the crevices of her palm. “Quinn?” She fists her hand and rolls her shoulders back, blinking rapidly so that the tears in her eyes stay there. A sob travels from the bathroom and she feels Rachel step closer to her.  
  
    “I’ll get him.” Rachel takes another step and the floorboard creaks loud enough to send the girl back to her door. Quinn would tell her it’s always done that (it’s how she used to tell when her dad left his office) but Rachel isn’t invited into this moment. She may have been there for him earlier, held him when he needed it, but Quinn doesn’t want her here now. Quinn’s accepted that she’ll have to get used to Rachel being in her space but this is Quinn’s place, it just took her some time to realize that. “Go back to bed, Rachel.” The sentence feels strange and she licks her lips as she pushes off the floor.  
  
    Puck’s sitting against the tub, his head in his hands and the blood is still running down his skin, dropping onto the rug beneath him. “I’m not stuck with you.” He looks at her and her heart cracks a little when she sees how swollen and red his eyes are. She picks up the rag from the sink and turns off the water before she sits down in front of him. “Did it help,” she asks, inspecting the cuts better in the dim light. She leans back to pull a first aid kit from underneath the sink. She grimaces when she tweezes some bark out of the wound.  
  
    “Not really,” he admits. Other than a few sniffs here and there, they are silent while she patches him up. It’s not until she’s done and cradling his hand in hers that he asks, “Are we going to treat Sam like Beth?”  
  
    She shakes her head slowly, fingers outlining the lines on his palm. “Was he still…” Her voice cracks and she clears her throat before trying again. “Had they-” It cracks again and he holds her hand even though the action stings.  
  
    “There wasn’t much left.” He swallows hard, the tears already staining his cheeks again. “I had to sho-” He pauses for a breath, squeezing her hand a little tighter. “There wasn’t much left,” he repeats and she nods.  
  
    “I’ve never been stuck with you, Noah.” He looks at her again and she bites her lip, free hand raising to cup his cheek. “Everything good Beth gets will be from you.”  
  
    He keeps crying but he manages to laugh a little. “Just cause the city’s gone to shit doesn’t mean you have to lie to me, Q.” She slaps his cheek lightly and he catches her hand, tugging her closer. He buries his face in her neck, her arms falling around his neck, and his hot breath paints her skin, his entire body deflating in her embrace.  
  
    “I love you,” she whispers. She’s never said that to him, had barely entertained the notion when she gave birth to the child they’ll never know, but she knows now with the utmost certainty it’s true. When the dust settles, he always seems to be the last one standing there for her. The fact that he’s still here, tangible and sane and strong, after everything he’s had to face today proves to her that Noah Puckerman is one hell of a man. She’s lucky to have him here; they all are.  
  
    His hands tighten on her waist and she repeats herself, over and over until her lips slide against his, the words getting lost in his breath.  
  
\--  
  
    “Not that I’m not thankful I’m alive,” Tina says, taking two cards from the deck, “but I kind of wish this was like the movies.”  
  
    They’ve been holed up in the house for about a month and this is the most exciting thing they’ve done. Brittany found Mr. Fabray’s old poker set in the hall closet on the second day and they set up a tournament the day after that. It’s taken up a lot of time, thankfully, because there isn’t much they can do in such a confined space.  
  
    Mike shakes his head and after Puck confers with Stacey as to which cards they should toss, he shakes his head too. “Trust me when I say you don’t mean that.” Stacey stretches for the deck of cards but she can’t quite reach so Tina inches it over just enough for the girl to grab three cards.  
  
    “Everything just seemed more exciting in movies… Who would’ve thought a zombie apocalypse would be so boring?”  
  
    “No school though,” Stacey quips. “ _School_ is boring.” She pats Puck’s arm, motioning for him to lean down. “I think we’re gonna win.”  
  
    Mike arches an eyebrow. “You sure about that?” The little girl nods confidently but as soon as Mike lays down his four of a kind, she throws her cards at his face.  
  
    Before Puck can even open his mouth, Quinn is clearing her throat loudly from the other side of the room. Stacey shrinks in his lap, apologizing to Mike before turning to Puck again. “I just don’t like losing,” she complains and Puck chuckles.  
  
    “It’s okay, kid. We can play again when they’re done. We made it really far.”  
  
    Santana drops down in the empty seat at the table, handing Stacey half her sandwich as she eyes the other two at the table. “Personally, I think they cheated. It’s no coincidence that the last two in our tournament are the Asian duo.”  
  
    “You’re just bitter I called your bluff,” Tina retorts, shuffling the deck.  
  
    Santana rolls her eyes, muttering ‘cheaters’ under her breath  
  
    Finn watches them from his spot on the couch, shifting uncomfortably as the gameboy (which, just, really is too small for his hands) waits for him to press A. He really doesn’t want to be so separated from everyone but he can’t help it. Kurt’s gotten better. His brother can carry on a conversations again, has even managed to laugh when Tina and Brittany were talking about some movie earlier. Puck’s been okay since day one. He actually forced him to get his ass out of bed after a week of only getting out of bed to go to the bathroom. Rachel was livid that Puck was being so insensitive but Puck was right. You don’t survive anything like this if you can’t accept that there will be casualties. Finn wants to step up to the plate ( _should_ be); he wants to be the kind of guy his dad was. But every time he so much as blinks, he sees what was left of his mom in a pool of blood. How is he supposed to be okay after that? Everyone at the card table laughs and Finn sighs when he notices Kurt talking animatedly to Quinn and Rachel.  
  
    “It’s a lot, baby,” she says to him when he can’t sleep. “Everyone grieves differently. You don’t have to cut your grieving short just because Kurt and Puck seem okay.” He usually pretends to fall asleep after that, pretends that it helps just to make Rachel feel okay, but it doesn’t help. If anything, it just makes him feel like even more of an ass than before.  
  
    Kurt thrusts a can of Spaghetti-Os in front of his face and Finn blinks before taking the food. “Isn’t that Stacey’s?”  
  
    “She wanted me to catch a Pokemon for her.” He saves the game and Kurt sits down with his own lunch, a can of raviolis, patting Finn’s knee.  
  
    “You’ve lost a lot of weight,” Kurt comments as Finn practically drinks the can of noodles. “It’s starting to worry Rachel.” He pokes at his own can, sighing before choking down a bite.  
  
    Finn shrugs. “It’s not like I can help it.” They can only eat so much a day and it’s not really enough to sustain him but it’s been a while since he’s actually _felt_ hungry. The first two weeks he didn’t eat more than once a day and the only reason he eats more now is because Santana threatened to shoot him if he didn’t (Brittany told him she was just kidding but he wouldn’t put it past her). He puts his empty can next to the couch and Kurt tries to give Finn his own can. “ _You_ need to eat,” he says, shaking his head when Kurt sets the can down on his knee.  
  
    “You need it more than I do.” Finn rolls his eyes but eats half the can before giving it back to his brother.  
  
    “You _have_ to eat.”  
  
    Rachel nods as she walks up from behind Finn, pressing a kiss to his cheek as she picks up his empty can. “If I can force down Easy Mac, you can eat some ravioli.”  
  
    “Please. Like that’s even real cheese.” Kurt has to take a bite before she leaves and when they’re alone again (well, as alone as they can be), he looks at Finn seriously. “You can see the worry on her face… I’m surprised she’s not graying.” Finn watches as Rachel sits down next to Stevie on Artie’s bed, listening to Quinn and Artie animatedly read aloud some book, and for the first time notices what Kurt’s talking about. There’s worry lines on her forehead that weren’t there before and even though she’s smiling, it seems so much dimmer than he’s seen it before. He swallows hard, tries his hardest to smile at Rachel when she notices him staring, but he only manages to barely curve one side of his lips. “I miss my dad every day,” Kurt whispers, scraping the plastic fork around the edge of the can. “It’s… difficult, but I don’t want the people still here to suffer too.”  
  
    Finn scratches the back of his head, sighing heavily. “I’m _trying_.”  
  
    Kurt offers a sad, sympathetic smile and he leans over, giving Finn’s knee a squeeze. “I know. Just…” He looks like he’s trying to find the right words to say but all Kurt ends up doing is letting out a breath the accompanies a tiny shrug. “Keep trying okay? If not for her or us, but for your mom. When your dad died, she kept going for you.”  
  
    A shot goes off down the hall and everyone is suddenly at attention, Quinn and Puck each clutching a child. Santana is up instantly, the dining room chair Judy kept in perfect condition tips back, banging against the wall in the rush and Finn suddenly realizes Brittany isn’t in the room.  
  
    Santana throws open the door and there’s Brittany standing there with wide eyes, a shot gun hanging in her right hand and a bruise forming on her shoulder. “I got it,” she says simply and Santana throws her arms around her girlfriend.  
  
\--  
  
    “Looks like it got through the back,” Mike yells, turning the lock before walking back to the entryway.”  
  
    Tina frowns from her spot in between Artie and Kurt. When she and Quinn went to throw out the trash this morning, she was last one in which meant it was her job to lock up. “Sorry.” Artie squeezes her shoulder and Puck shrugs downstairs.  
  
    “S’okay. Luckily it was only one.” Puck and Santana crouch next to the body and Brittany wrinkles her nose when Santana starts checking his pockets.  
  
    “San,” she whines, tapping her girlfriend’s butt with her foot. “That’s gross.” Thick, dark blood surrounds the man’s head and there’s some splattered on the front door behind him. She’s about to ask someone if she should clean it up but then Mike asks her if it looks like Mr. Buce, the man who sometimes worked as a janitor for the dance studio. It’s hard to tell, his face practically ruined by decay and the bullet, but then she notices the tattoo on the inside of his wrist. Her breath catches in her throat and she starts playing with the end of her hair. She liked Mr. Buce.  
  
    “I can’t believe you got him between the eyes your first time out,” Puck muses. “Your girl’s got an amazing shot.”  
  
    She thinks Santana smiles but she’s not sure. Santana pulls out a black wallet and Brittany swallows before asking, “Is it Mr. Buce?” Santana looks back at her and then looks worried which means Brittany definitely looks upset and she forces her face to go blank as Santana stands up. Santana tries to hug her but Brittany shakes her head, taking a step back. “You just touched him!”  
  
    Santana hands Mike the wallet and looks up at Tina. “Can you throw me down some hand sanitizer?”  
  
    Mike opens the wallet and there’s the Mr. Buce’s she remembers.  
  
    She killed Mr. Buce.  
  
    A whine escapes the back of her throat and Santana squeezes a whole bunch of gel into her hands, rubbing it up to her elbows, encasing Brittany in a hug just before she backs into a wall. “You did good,” Puck says as she hides her face in Santana’s neck.  
  
    A hand rubs her shoulder and then Mike’s saying, “He wasn’t Mr. Buce. This wasn’t Mr. Buce,” which Santana whispers how much she loves her in Brittany’s ear.  
  
    “I’m okay,” she says, squeezing Santana’s waist before pulling back. Santana doesn’t look convinced so she squeezes her waist again, this time smiling a little. “I’m okay.”  
  
    Finn sits down next to Kurt on the ledge even though Brittany can hear Rachel asking him not to. “We’re gonna need to get rid of it,” Puck says as he stands up, Mr. Buce’s key ring in his hand. He looks at Mike and Brittany slips her hand into his when he nods.  
  
    “I’ll go.” Everyone looks at Finn, Kurt shaking his head.  
  
    “This wasn’t what I-”  
  
    “Yeah, it was,” Finn says, standing up and then making his way down the ladder. “I’ll go with one of you guys.”  
  
    Puck nods but his jaw remains locked and Brittany leans into Santana. “Where are you going to take him?”  
  
    It’s silent but then Mike nods next to her. “I know a place that’ll probably be good.”  
  
    “Then you two’ll go. If you’re sure, dude.”  
  
    “It’s my job,” he says with a shrug and Santana scoffs.  
  
    “’Cause you have a dick?”  
  
    Brittany elbows her. “Because he cares, Santana.” Finn almost gives her a smile as he nods but she understands why he falls a little short. Tina announces that she’ll go get weapons and Finn goes back upstairs to pick out his own. “You’ll be careful with him, right? He was always so nice to us.”  
  
    “Of course, B.”  
  
    “Where’d Finn go,” Rachel asks, tucking her hair behind her ears.  
  
    “In Tina’s room,” Santana answers and Brittany worries her bottom lip, only dropping it when Santana kisses the corner of her lips. “C’mon. Let’s go play with the kids.”  
  
\--  
  
    “I don’t really think you should go.” God, this is awkward. She tried leaving as soon as Rachel walked in, Finn could totally pick his own weapon, but Rachel’s standing in front of the door and Tina really doesn’t think it’s a good idea to interrupt now.  
  
    Finn weighs a hatchet in his hand. “Rachel, I’ll be fine.” He hands the tool back to Tina and she swaps it with a pickaxe, focusing on rearranging their weapons when she notices Rachel’s eyes starting to tear up.  
  
    “You haven’t been sleeping well,” Rachel adds but even Tina knows that won’t stop Finn. None of them have really slept well since this became their home. Rachel stammers in the same way Tina used to until Finn wraps an arm around Rachel’s shoulders, moving the pickaxe so it’s not near his girlfriend and as a result, almost clocks Tina. “Why don’t you let Puck go?”  
  
    “There’s no reason I can’t go.”  
  
    Tina’s eyebrows shoot towards her hairline, shaking her head. Rachel pulls back. “You haven’t been _well_.” Finn seems to remember she’s still there and he looks down at Tina, embarrassed, but she pretends to be busy with braiding her hair. Rachel cups his cheek, making him look at her again. “You’ve been having a hard time and I just worry that…”  
  
    Tina tries off her braid and then picks up one of the hand guns. She loads in a magazine. Finn kisses Rachel’s forehead and Tina makes sure the safety is on. “This is step one, okay? I’m trying, so that I can be good again.”  
  
    Rachel sighs but lifts on to her tiptoes, kissing Finn in a way that always made Tina uncomfortable (she _loves_ Mike but she doesn’t try to consume him in front of other people and those two don’t seem to know how not to kiss like that). “And you’re sure going out is the best way to start this?” Finn nods and Rachel breathes out again, rolling back her shoulders and wiggling her fingers. “Okay. Be careful.”  
  
    Finn actually smiles and Tina watches as Rachel practically beams at the sight.  
  
\--  
  
  
    There’s cars abandoned in the middle of the street, bodies rare but there, if the stench is anything to go by. Mike thinks it helps that Quinn lives in the newer part of Lima, in a development that the majority of the population is too poor to afford. The truck sputters down the street and Mike carefully weaves through the mess, trying not to notice how tense Finn is next to him when he has to drive over the arm of a body. Mike has definitely always been closer with Puck. He’s not sure why but it’s just how it turned out. He and Finn work well as teammates but he wasn’t exactly making gaming plans with him on the weekends like he did with Puck and Sam. So this drive is awkward, especially since Finn hasn’t talked to anyone who wasn’t Rachel or Kurt since this whole thing came about.  
  
    “Where are we going,” Finn asks as Mike brakes at the last stoplight of town. The stoplight is blank as it swings from the wire in the wind. He could just drive through it; it’s not like there’s anyone else around. Still he looks both ways and then presses on the gas when Finn coughs.  
  
    “Old barn,” he says. It doesn’t have a name, never has as far as Mike knows. He’s pretty sure it’s never been used for as long as he’s been alive, he’s not even sure anyone actually even owns the land or if it’s county property, but he always used it as a marker on road trips to figure out how close they were to home. It’s one of the first things you see besides farmland when you drive back into Lima from Dayton. High school kids have been using it for the last few years. Most of the time it’s McKinley kids but sometimes the football team will go over there to fuck around and find Fort Shawnee kids using it. It’s far enough out that they can usually party without cops showing up since there’s really no one close enough to complain or report them.  
  
    Finn scratches the back of his neck, nodding unsurely until Mike turns down the road towards the abandoned barn. “Oh, this place. I remember this place.” It looks even more run down if that’s even possible. One of the doors has fallen down and a van crashed into the side of it. “Think there’s anyone in the car?” Mike shrugs, driving closer to it but staying far enough back in case they don’t want to know what’s in there. The windshield is busted, wooden planks resting on the vehicle and as a result, the barn’s started tilting a little. They grab their weapons as soon as he parks, going straight to the back of the truck. Finn keeps looking over at the van.  
  
    “Do you want to take the legs or the head,” Mike asks, pulling down the gate. He pulls on Mr. Buce’s legs so he’ll be easier to grab. He’s really glad Santana decided to cover his face though Mike guesses it was also to stop blood from going everywhere on the move.  
  
    Finn looks back at the van again and doesn’t move to grab Mr. Buce. “I think there’s blood on the van.” Mike squints, eyes roaming the silver van, and notices something that could be blood above the front tire, but it’s hard to tell without getting closer.  
  
    A twig snaps and both of their heads go to the doors of the barn. A woman stands there, head cocked to the side like she’s surprised to see them and her clothes torn hang from her body. Her top is sliced open, like somebody tried to cut her in half, what’s left of her decomposing boob poking out through the ripped fabric that’s stained with her dried blood. Finn takes the gun from his pocket and turns off the safety.  
  
    Mike knew that the zombies weren’t walkers, that they had a mob like mentality, but it’s not until this one sprints towards them that he really gets just how dangerous these things are. Finn pulls the trigger twice and one bullet blows through her arm, the other skimming her neck. Third time’s the charm, thank god. The woman’s so close that Mike can see how many fingernails she’s missing (all but the pinky on her left hand), can hear things snapping from beneath her flesh as she tries to grab for one of them. Her eyes are clouded over, he can’t even tell what color her eyes used to be, and when the bullet finally sails right between her eyes, a chunk of black hair falls off her head before she goes to the ground.  
  
    “ _Fuck_ ,” Mike breathes out, looking at Finn who is blinking down at the body.  
  
    Turns out, nothing can really prepare you for that moment. No amount of movies or video games or knowledge. Mike can’t believe he honestly didn’t just soil himself. “We should hurry up and g-” A garbled moan rips through the air and they look up to see four zombies lurching towards them. Mike doesn’t even have the time to tell Finn to get back in the truck, barely has time to pull his jiàn from its sheath, before the zombies descend.  
  
    He jumps into the bed of the truck, stabbing his sword into the head of the zombie that manages to grab Finn’s shirt. Finn keeps the zombie up the best he can with his pickaxe, using it like a shield as he shoots over it’s shoulder at the others. He hits them but doesn’t kill them and Mike yells for him to climb into the truck too when the gun simply clicks in Finn’s hand. “My axe is stuck.” Finn tugs on his weapon and Mike slices the head off the one closest to Finn. The weapon finally comes free, a rib falling from the zombie, and suddenly there’s this scraping that makes his teeth hurt. Mike turns to see two more zombies desperately reaching for him from the other side of the truck. He turns, swinging his blade back in hopes of slicing off both heads at once, but then Finn screams and Mike turns just in time to see a zombie tearing into Finn’s shoulder.  
  
    “ _No_ ,” Mike shouts, his sword falling to the bed of the truck with a thunderous clap, and he pulls the pickaxe from the neck of the zombie, instantly shoving it through its skull. Finn stumbles back, groaning and Mike can see the tears coating Finn’s cheeks as he stumbles backwards. One of the zombies from the other side of the truck rushes him and Mike can’t believe what he’s seeing. It’s like some sort of National Geographic special. All of the blood thirsty creatures forget about his still beating heart and swarm Finn like flies.  
  
    He falls to his knees and throws up on Mr. Buce’s dirty jeans. It’s almost enough to block out Finn’s screams.  
  
\--  
  
    There’s a knock on the door and Kurt rolls over in his makeshift bed, using his index finger to keep his place in the book Quinn recommended (he has to admit, she was right when she said he’d love it. He hasn’t been able to put it down since lunch). “Come in.”  
  
    “Dinner’s ready,” Puck says and Kurt can see Tina and Rachel jump to their feet behind him.  
  
    “The boys aren’t back yet?” Puck looks behind him when the front door slams and Tina’s voiced is laced with worry when she calls out to her boyfriend. Rachel is noticeably silent.  
  
    By the time Kurt and Puck stand at the landing, Mike’s dropped to his knees in the very same place Mr. Buce’s body was earlier. Tina is halfway down the ladder when Mike looks up at them. “I’m sorry,” he cries. Every inch of him is dirty, Kurt thinks there might even be some throw up on his chin, but as soon as Tina gets to him, she pulls him into her lap, clutching him as close as possible. He’s never seen Mike look so small.  
  
    “Can you go sit down?” Kurt blinks and looks at Puck who tenderly puts a hand on his shoulder. He nods, even though he’s not exactly sure he can. Brittany appears out of nowhere, smiles at him sadly and kisses his cheek as she leads him into the main room.  
  
    It hasn’t been this quiet since the morning after Sam left.  
  
    Brittany sits him down at the table in between Santana and Stevie, the two of them fighting about _something_ , as usual, until Quinn asks Stevie to come with her. Santana looks at him then and he only realizes he’s crying when her face relaxes just slightly before she stands up. She pulls the hem of her shirt around her hand and does her best to dry his face with it. There’s some sort of vague joke in his head about being so close to her crotch but it never really falls into place and he pushes her away. Puck yells for Brittany. The only ones left in the room are him, Santana, and Artie.  
  
    It’s kind of funny. Here they are in the middle of the end of the world yet this is probably the most still they’ve been since this whole thing started. Artie is literally in the middle of turning a page of the book he’s reading and Santana is leaning on her chair, far enough to not feel like she’s suffocating him but close enough that he can still feel how warm she is. It’s really loud outside the room or maybe it just sounds that way because there hasn’t been cause for this commotion. It didn’t even get this loud when Brittany shot that zombie earlier. His eyes flick from Santana to Artie and then to the can of soup on the table they both seem to be zoning out on.  
  
    The door opens behind him and the other two in the room come to life again but he doesn’t. Kurt keeps staring at the can of chicken noodle, his arms crossed against his chest.  
  
    Tina and Puck ease Mike into the chair across from him. He looks like he’s going to be sick. “I’m so sorry,” he repeats. The words Kurt told Finn earlier keep ringing in his ears and he closes his eyes.  
  
    “Where’s Rachel?”  
  
\--  
  
    Before today, Rachel always found the beauty in heartbreaking devastation. The portraits painted in West Side Story and Romeo & Juliet left her wanting to feel something so spectacularly grand at least once in her life, even at the cost of everything being ripped away.  
  
    Before today, she was nothing but a stupid girl.  
  
    Mike isn’t able to say a lot and everyone keeps telling her to go sit down. She shakes her head, grips the rail when Brittany tries to pull her away, only letting go to push Puck back when he tries to move her. “Let her hear,” Quinn says as she shuts the kids’ door. “Having her sit down isn’t going to soften the blow.”  
  
    “She doesn’t need to see this.”  
  
    Quinn moves somewhere behind her and Rachel tightens her hand into a fist, Puck’s shirt firmly in her grip. “I knew he shouldn’t have gone,” she whispers. Brittany’s downstairs now, helping Tina get Mike to his feet. Blood is staining his clothes and now it’s staining the girls’ and she feels her stomach lurch. “You should’ve stopped him.” She shoves Puck and swallows hard. “You knew he wasn’t okay. He wasn’t ready for _this_.” He doesn’t say anything but she notices the way his jaw clenches and she thinks that he might actually be crying. Her vision is too cloudy for her to tell for sure. “ _You should have stopped him_.”  
  
    “Stop it.” Her head jerks to look at Quinn. One of her hands is curled around Puck’s arm and the other is hanging in the air between her and Quinn. She shakes her head and takes a step back, glancing over at Mike who has made it up to the landing. It doesn’t look like he’ll get up anytime soon. “This isn’t his fault.” Quinn barely even looks shaken up over this and her voice just seems too steady for what’s happening. What’s _happened_.  
  
    She can see Brittany looking at her over their shoulders, her face drenched in pity. It’s the same look she gave Stacey and Stevie that first week after Sam-  
  
    Rachel squeezes her eyes shut, backing away from all of them. “Finn wouldn’t be de-” The words catch roughly in her throat, her hand going to clutch her neck before she tries to say it again. “Finn wouldn’t be de-” She blinks and Quinn takes a small step towards her and _no_ , this isn’t happening. Quinn Fabray doesn’t try and comfort her when she’s upset. Her chest tightens viciously. It’s like that first day all over again where she just can’t wrap her mind around what she’s just been told and what she’s just seen. The hand on her neck trails down and she pulls on her shirt, pulling it away from her body in an effort to get some air and cool herself down. Her back hits a wall and she closes her eyes again, her nails digging into her as she gulps for air.  
  
    Someone grabs her then, she’d guess Brittany but she’s honestly not sure, and she doesn’t open her eyes until she’s being sat down. Quinn’s digging through the medicine cabinet, tossing aside pill bottle after pill bottle until she finds one she likes. She presses a pill into Rachel’s hand before handing her a Dixie cup of water. “It’s one of my anxiety pills,” she says, raising Rachel’s arm up when she doesn’t move to take the pill. “It’ll help.”  
  
    If everything was still normal, she probably wouldn’t have take it. But the world is ending and Finn is… She swallows the pill dry. It’s not like she has nothing to lose anymore.  
  
    “Take deep breaths,” Quinn tells her and Rachel wants to tell her she’s not stupid. She may not have anxiety but she knows how to handle a panic attack. Fighting with Quinn just seems so pointless now though and, well, Rachel’s not sure she’d put it past Quinn to kick her out.  
  
    “Can you just say it?” Quinn is lining up all the pill bottles in the medicine cabinet, making sure the labels face out, and Rachel’s about to specify what exactly she’s asking when Quinn closes the cabinet and looks at her through the mirror.  
  
    “Finn is dead.” Her voice cracks a little on the last word but overall she lacks the emotion everyone else probably has right now and that alone allows Rachel to exhale. Even though everything is turned upside down, at least she can still count on Quinn to be brutally honest with her.  
  
    The pill must be kicking in because her heart doesn’t feel like it’s going to burst through her chest anymore and she uses the hem of her shirt to wipe the sweat from her forehead. “Thank you.” Quinn nods, looks at her awkwardly, and then takes a chance. She gives Rachel’s shoulder a small squeeze that actually feels a bit like a death grip and pushes back the bits of Rachel’s hair sticking to her skin.  
  
    “I’m going to go check on the kids.”  
  
\--  
  
    “We need to start training people,” Puck says, scraping the side of his can to get the rest of the sauce. “And no more pairs. At least three people need to be together when we go anywhere.”  
  
    Brittany is helping Artie stretch his legs on the bed, bending his legs at the knees and massaging his muscles. “How would we do that?”  
  
    “Train?” Brittany nods and he shrugs, running a hand over the back of his head. “With the melee weapons, we can practice downstairs. Use the walls, furniture. S’not like we’re using it anyway.”  
  
    “What about guns? I know you guys got a decent supply of ammo but, I mean, I don’t know how to shoot a gun. I’d be wasting bullets,” Artie says as he puts his glasses back on so he can see Puck clearly. “Not that I’ll be leaving here, but I don’t think I could do what Brittany did.”  
  
    “The most I’ve ever shot is a paintball gun and I have no idea if that’s like a real gun or not. The only ones who I _know_ know how to shoot are Quinn and Kurt. Well, and I guess you too, Britt.” He shakes his head and reclines in his seat. “We’d be wasting bullets. But at the same time, we can’t just wait for zombies to swamp us and, really, I don’t know how well Rachel and Tina can do close up.”  
  
    “That’s sexist,” Santana says when she walks out of the bathroom they’ve been using as a kitchen.  
  
    Puck rolls his eyes. “You two and Quinn were Cheerios, Mike and I were football players. I know what we’re capable of. I don’t know about them. I’d include Kurt too but he at least knows how to shoot.”  
  
    Santana folds her arms against her stomach, looking down at the floor when she says, “Finn played too.” Brittany places Artie’s legs back on the bed, crawling next to him as Puck looks back at Santana, his jaw locked. “Whole lot of good it did him.”  
  
    “Finn managed to kill two,” he snaps. “He killed three that first day too. It wasn’t lack of skill, Santana.”  
  
    She shakes her head, her wild hair sticking out at all angles (whatever shampoo Tina snagged at Walmart has done fuck all for her hair). “That’s not what I’m trying to say. Finn was competent and he still-” She licks her lips and shakes her head again. “We’re all fucked if there’s enough of them. Don’t single anyone out because none of us are _prepared_ for this.”  
  
    “We know, baby,” Brittany says softly from the bed. Santana swallows hard, rubbing at her temple. “Come lay down.”  
  
    Puck pushes back from the table, hugs Santana when he passes her and instead of just amusing him, she holds him tightly. “I’m sorry,” she whispers against his chest and he squeezes back just as hard as she’s clutching to him. She pulls away after that, slipping in bed next to Brittany and Artie. He shuts the door when he leaves and Quinn’s coming out of Mike and Tina’s room when he looks down the hall.  
  
    “How’s he doing?”  
  
    Quinn shrugs. “I gave him one of my mom’s sleeping pills just so they could get some sleep. He managed to stop crying but he still couldn’t stop shaking.”  
  
    He nods. “You gonna go lay down?”  
  
    “I was going to check on the kids first… Maybe Rachel and Kurt too.” She wrings her hands together. “Truthfully, I think I just make it worse.”  
  
    The tub starts filling up in the bathroom and Puck lets out a breath. “I’ll check on them. I think Brittany and Santana are bunking with Artie tonight.”  
  
    “Come to bed soon.” He used to hear that a lot from her when they lived together. Pregnancy made her restless and even though she generally hated him for knocking her up, she couldn’t fall asleep unless she was somehow touching him, even if it was something as simple as her knee touching his leg.  
  
    He never though he’d hear her say that to him again.  
  
    “I will.” She gives him a weak smile and he opens Kurt’s door.  
  
    He’s sitting in his make-shift bed, his back pressed against the wall, staring at the bed Rachel and Finn have been sharing. His legs are pulled against his chest, chin perched on his knee, and Puck’s eyes have adjusted enough to the dark that he can make out the wet trails on Kurt’s cheeks. “I don’t understand,” Kurt whispers, his voice rough, a little deeper than Puck’s used to hearing, “how you were able to make it through that first day.”  
  
    Puck slumps down next to him, trying his hardest not to mess up the sheets, but he guesses Kurt’s usual neurotic habits have been thrown to the wayside today. “I don’t know,” he admits. It’s probably one of the most honest things he’s ever said.  
  
    Kurt shakes his head, his hands fisting the fabric of his sweats. Puck’s surprised he hasn’t sewn them yet like everyone else’s but it’s not like there’s much of a need anyway when all they really do is stay inside. “You lost your mom, your sister, Sam…” He runs a hand under his nose, grimacing at the feel, and then looks over at Puck. “I don’t know if I’m as strong as you.”  
  
    “Ku-”  
  
    He puts his hand up. “It was different when Finn was still here. Even though my dad was gone, we still had each other. But now my entire family is _gone_ … I know that I’m still alive, in a house full of people that, well, you guys aren’t _horrible_ to be shacked up with, but…” Puck slings an arm around Kurt’s shoulders and pulls him close. In the time they’ve been friends, he’s done this more and more and it’s kind of fucked up, Puck realizes, that they only seem to do this when something shitty happens to Kurt.  
  
    They’re quiet for what feels like a long time. Kurt lets his head fall to Puck’s shoulder and the larger boy does his best to hold him close. With Finn gone, this is his job now. He needs to take care of Kurt and Rachel, keep them safe, keep them sane.  
  
    “Before he left, I essentially told Finn he needed to stop being such a Debbie downer.”  Kurt stretches out his legs, leaning forward a little bit to run his kneecaps but he doesn’t stray far from Puck. “Kind of hard to follow my own advice now.”  
  
    Puck nods, letting his thumb rub small circles on Kurt’s arm. “No one’s gonna say shit if you decide to hole up in here. We get it.”  
  
    “Yeah…” Kurt looks out the window. Now that the city is without power, the sky is filled with stars and the moon seems brighter than he’s ever seen it. Kind of ironic, Puck thinks.  
  
    “I’m gonna go check on Rach, then head to bed.” He gives Kurt’s shoulder a small squeeze before he stands up. “You gonna be _okay_?”  
  
    Kurt huffs, a shadow of a smile creeping on his face. “No, I’m not going to be okay.” Puck pauses and Kurt wipes his cheeks and then lightly pushes Puck towards the door. “Go.”  
  
\--  
  
    He’s a little surprised the door isn’t locked. She has the shower curtain pulled back so he can’t see much past her collarbone (which seems stupid now because there’s only so much space in this house and chances are they’ll all get pretty well acquainted sooner or later. He’s already seen Britt, Santana, and Quinn naked. He is sharing a room with them though so he’s not sure that counts), not that he’d be able to anyway since the one candle doesn’t do much in way of lighting the room. “Leave me alone,” she says tiredly, doing something behind the curtain that makes the water splash against the sides of the tub.  
  
    “You know that’s not gonna happen.” He sits down next to the tub, pushing her discarded clothes out of the way. “Where’s your head at?”  
  
    He thinks she’s glaring at him but he’s not 100% sure. “Where do you _think_ , Noah?”  
  
    Puck smirks, shaking his head. “Been awhile since someone spit my name like that. Have to say, I thought Quinn’d be the one to do it.” The water moves again and Rachel covers her face with her hands. Her breathing is heavy, but she’s not sniffling so that means it’s at least been a while since she stopped crying. He’s really at a loss for words. He’s never been good with them, has a habit of sticking his foot in his mouth more often than not, and saying sorry isn’t going to mean shit.  
  
    Before he can try to say something that won’t help, she looks at him, almost glaring. “You should have told him no.” She needs an outlet, he gets that, so he squeezes his hands into fists and counts to five in his head, not saying anything. “Why didn’t you tell him no?” He really doesn’t trust his own mouth so he just shrugs and her hands hit the water with a loud slap. “Do you _really_ have nothing to say for yourself? He was your _best friend_!”  
  
    “I know you’re upset,” he says through gritted teeth and she laughs bitterly, the sound choking her slightly.  
  
    “Upset? I’m _devastated_ , Noah. This is all so…” She pushes herself up in the tub, her arms coming up to cover her chest, not that he has any intention of looking now. Water drips from the side of the tub and she shakes her head, looking at everywhere but him. “Why do you always _do_ this to him? He was your best friend and you _always_ just… _destroyed_ him! You gave him flack for joining Glee, you slept with his girlfriend, got her _pregnant_ … And now you got him killed.”  
  
    He shakes his head and stands up. “I’m not going to just sit here and let you _shit_ on me no matter how upset you are. This is _not_ my fault,” he yells, his voice bouncing off the walls. The bathroom shares a wall with the kids’ room and he hopes that he doesn’t wake them. He opens one of the drawers, pocketing a condom as she sneers.  
  
    “Is that how you’re handling everything so well? With Quinn Fabray’s pussy?”  
  
    He slams the drawer shut. “Why didn’t _you_ stop him, Rachel? Huh? You talked to him before they left. You were the _last_ one to. If this is my fault, then it’s your fault too.” Her eyes widen like he just fucking slapped her and, fuck, this is exactly what he didn’t want to do. She’s just _staring_ at him and he knows he should apologize but he is still way too fucking angry to do anything except yell at her some more.  
  
    Kurt slips into the room, shaking his head a little. “You two are going to wake the whole house,” he says softly and he looks back when he hears soft crying.  
  
    Quinn’s clutching Stacey to her chest, trying to soothe the little girl who keeps asking when Sam will be back with their parents. “Can you take her,” she asks, looking past Kurt at Puck. He doesn’t even glance at Rachel before he’s taking Stacey from Quinn and disappearing into their room.  
  
    Kurt looks at the blonde nervously, putting his arm out when she tries to walk over to Rachel. “Quinn,” he warns and she shakes her head.  
  
    “I know that Finn died, but I do _not_ want _my_ kids to go through what I went through,” Quinn growls. “They already lost their family and have to live through this cataclysm, I will **not** stand for them to be woken up by fighting.” It’s been a _long_ time since Kurt’s seen the ice queen cry, and he knows that what he has seen hasn’t been anything more than superficial tears at best, that he wouldn’t believe she’s actually crying if he wasn’t standing right next to her. “Are we understood?”  
  
    Rachel nods and the moment Quinn leaves, she bursts into tears, hiding her face in her hands.  
  
    He locks the door and then pushes back the shower curtain so he can gather his best friend in his arms. She’s completely soaking his clothes and he doesn’t understand how she’s still sitting in this tub because the water is freezing. She really should get out but she leeches to him, sobbing even harder than he thinks he did, shaking her head against his chest. “I should have stopped him,” she cries between hiccups. Kurt carefully runs his fingers through her hair, pulling apart any tangles he comes across. “Puck was right… I talked to him and I just… I knew he wouldn’t come back.” His hand pauses and she curries her face in the crook of his neck. “I knew and I just let him go.”  
  
    “Rachel, there’s no way…”  
  
    She looks at him and god, she looks disgusting. Her entire face is red, snot running from her nose, and she really _doesn’t_ have a pretty crying face (she was never sure if that would hurt her or help her in the long run). “I _did_ Kurt. I had this feeling and I still let him go.”  
  
    He grabs the washcloth from the side of the tub, dunking it in the water before telling her to close her eyes. He wipes down her face gently. “It is _not_ your fault, Rachel. This isn’t anyone’s fault.” She squeezes her eyes shut and he can feel a shiver run through her body. “Come on, let’s go to bed.”  
  
    He tries to reach for the towel she left on the toilet but she holds on to his arms, looks at him with those eyes that make him feel even worse than he already does. “I can’t,” she says weakly. “The bed, the smell…”  
  
    It’s funny how what comforted him, that musky smell that was always just slightly different from his dad’s, is what she can’t handle.  
  
    He nods, pulls her close once more before standing on wobbly legs and opening the towel for her to wrap herself in.  
  
\--  
  
    She can hear someone moaning softly from the other side of the wall their bed is shoved against followed by a sharp gasp, and Tina thinks she can hear crying then, different from the sobbing she’s heard all day from the room on the other side of them (she’s never regretted taking the middle room more than she does now). Mike twitches against her lap, his dirty fingers (she scrubbed them for an hour straight but somehow they still don’t look clean) digging into her thigh as he whimpers, trying to burrow into her further. She pushes his hair back, reveals his contorting face to her as she does her best to lace fingers with the hand clutching her thigh. For the first time since this entire thing started, it hits her how _real_ this is.  
  
    When Sam left, it was different. They knew it was coming; he gathered them in the living area and very calmly told them he was infected. He was able to tell them what he wanted to, as able to say goodbye. Even the mourning process was different. Everyone was obviously upset but it was something they all dealt with in private since, as far as the kids knew, their brother was coming back. But this? Finn was supposed to come back. He was supposed to eat a crappy dinner with them. He was supposed to be sleeping now, his arm wrapped around his girlfriend and his brother a breath away. Finn said a ‘see you later’ goodbye with what is now an unbearable amount of certainty. The kiss he had given Rachel before he went down the latter was chaste.  
  
    She wipes away the tear that falls on to Mike’s cheek. He twitches against her again and she runs her hand up and down his arm lightly, trying to sway in an effort to sooth him into a peaceful sleep.  
  
    Compared to everyone else in the house, she didn’t know Finn at all. They’d never dated and it’s not like she played football. It almost makes her feel like she shouldn’t be so upset about this. But Mike is starting to cry into her lap and she remembers that someone will be next. Someone she’s closer to. It could be Mike, could have been him.  
  
    She’s been stupid to say this was boring. Up until today, they’d been _safe_ and that’s the only thing that should have mattered. It is the only thing that matters.  
  
\--  
  
    It’s been 23 days since Finn died (eight days since she’s been able to say that without shutting down afterwards). Everyone let her be for that first week, with only Puck and sometimes Brittany bringing food to her and Kurt. The days already seemed endless and that week she didn’t leave her room felt like a year. They’re all living on borrowed time and she may as well do something other than cry her eyes out 24/7 (she can settle for just crying herself to sleep). She always believed she was destined for great things and even if everything’s gone to shit, she’s still going to try and she can’t do that from a bed. One week was all she gave herself. Then she walked with her head held high into the living area and quietly asked Brittany if she needed help with the laundry she was doing. A lot of them probably think she’s putting on an act right now but she’s not. Is she still sad? Of course. There hasn’t been a day that goes by where she doesn’t think about Finn or talk about him with Kurt.  
  
    Truthfully, she’s starting to go a little crazy being cooped up in the house. She went from being an only child with busy parents to living in a house where everyone is on top of one another. They’ve been here for two months now and she’s read nearly every book, played numerous card games (horribly), and even spent a day coloring an entire coloring book with Stacey. She’s tired of being forced to stay upstairs (though she knows it’s for safety reasons) unless they’re training and she can only train so much. Puck’s been training everyone for almost four hours a day every since Finn died and he’s always a little upset when she does more damage with a baseball bat than a blade. So when Santana announces from the top of the stairs that they’re working with their last four tampons, Rachel offers to go on the run with her.  
  
    Puck pulls the butcher knife she got stuck in the door frame out, shaking his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”  
  
    She apologized to him the morning after Finn died but it hasn’t been the same. He’s too careful with her now, thinks before he speaks (which she would’ve considered a miracle before, but now she just wants Noah back), and it’s driving her insane. She’s tempted to ask where this concern was with Finn but she knows she can’t keep going back to that. She can’t stay upset with him during times like this. “ _I_ do,” Rachel says and Puck pushes the handle of the knife back into her hand.  
  
    “Hit that same mark again and pull it out, you can go.”  
  
    Her face scrunches up, gripping the wood. “I’m not discussing this with you.”  
  
    “And I’m not letting you out of this house unless you can prove to me you won’t lose one of your weapons.” Brittany slides up next to her, wiping away the sweat that’s formed on her brow despite the cold. She wordlessly repositions Rachel’s hand, humming a little under her breath and Rachel can feel the hatchet that hangs from it’s case on Brittany’s jeans digging into her hip. Brittany pats her hand and steps away. Rachel sends the blade through the white wooden frame and yanks back hard enough to strain her arm a little, the knife coming back with her hand this time. When she turns around the first thing she sees is Brittany’s huge smile, the blonde bouncing a little on the balls of her feet, and Rachel can feel her lips curling in a way they haven’t since before Finn died. Puck sighs heavily behind her. “Santana, who else is going on the run with you two?”  
  
    Kurt follows her up to their room, sitting down on the bed they’ve been sharing since Finn.  
  
    “Are you sure about this, Rachel?” She tugs on her jeans, running a hand through her hair that she actually hasn’t brushed in a day or so. “I don’t want you leaving here unless you’re 110% sure that you can handle anything that happens out there.”  
  
    She tucks in the shirt she’s wearing and it feels a little ridiculous because it’s so long, but she knows Puck will be looking for any reason to keep her here. Everyone has read the book Sam left them at least once and it stressed the importance of tight clothing and short hair. While she’s not going to be chopping off her hair (frankly, the mental image of all of them with short hair and the gauntly figures they’ll sport eventually remind her too much of concentration camps. She just wants to stay looking like herself for a little while longer), she can at least pull it up in a bun. She debates pulling her socks over her jeans but they’re skinnies and she’d rather not hear Santana or Quinn comment on how she still manages to dress like a blind person despite limited options. “I need to get out of this house,” she admits as she runs a brush through her hair, wincing when she hits a bad knot. Kurt stands up, pushing Rachel to sit down as he takes the brush from her. He works the knots slowly, carefully, and she closes her eyes, trying to breathe in time with Kurt. “Do you think I’m ready?”  
  
    He stays quiet as he pulls her hair into a bun and she feels like smiling again because she knows that Kurt is sweeping her hair up in a way that will look cute. She honestly hasn’t thought much about her appearance since Finn woke up next to her that first morning, that tiny half smile of his the first thing she saw (and, god, how thankful she had been that he found it in him to smile then), and he whispered that he didn’t think he loved her anymore than he did right then when they both looked their worst. “Ready?” He laughs a little, or maybe it’s more of a scoff, the hair tie pulling at her hair and holding it in place. “There’s zombies outside. Who on earth would be ready for that?”  
  
    Kurt twirls a single strand of hair that won’t stay in place around his finger and then yanks it out. “Ow,” she complains. He swats her hand away when she tries to rub her scalp but she catches his hand in her fingers. “I’m not like Finn was…”  
  
    He nods. “I know,” he breathes out. “You’re better than he was that day.” He wraps his arms around her shoulders, pulling her against his belly, and she wonders briefly when he stopped smelling like himself and they started smelling like each other. “Please don’t do anything stupid.”  
  
    “I love you too.”  
  
\--  
  
    “I’m surprised Puck let us out of the house without a dick,” Santana muses as she forces open the sliding door. She’s honestly surprised the glass wasn’t broken but over all the strip of stores don’t look as bad as the Wal-Mart did that first day they had gone out. This is seriously the best part of town (or _was_ ). She figured some jackasses would’ve come to get the good stuff.  
  
    “Must’ve thought his second command was good enough,” Rachel mutters under her breath as she passes through the space Santana’s opened up, shinning the flashlight over the rows.  
  
    Santana glances back at Quinn who simply shakes her head and cocks the gun in her hand before squeezing through the doors herself.  
  
    God, not only is she bleeding but she has to deal with these bitches too?  
  
    The door slips closed behind her as she glances around the store. The check out lines are totally trashed, same with the redbox and the bank branch from what little she can see, but the aisles of food don’t look that worse for wear. It does smell like someone’s died and, well, it’s actually possible they’ll find dead things in here.  
  
    She rolls back her shoulders, stepping over the completely destroyed display table as Quinn calls for Rachel to stay close. “I’m _fine_ ,” Rachel asserts and she steps on a broken bottle of booze (naturally, one of the things people would’ve taken), the glass scratching on the tile in a way that has Santana running her tongue over her teeth. “Sorry.”  
  
    “I’m not trying to be like Puck,” Quinn starts, her words clipped in a way that has Santana wondering if maybe she should’ve taken the gun.  
  
    “You’re the only one with light. We can’t see shit if you’re ten feet ahead of us, Rachel,” Santana sighs, looping her arm through Rachel’s once she’s close enough, just to make sure the girl doesn’t leave them in the dark, and to keep her as far from Quinn as possible.  
  
    This place is creepy as fuck with no lights on and even though it’s pretty quiet around the house, it’s eerily quiet here. Kind of to the point where she thinks she hears something behind them but she knows it’s just Quinn. “This’ll be a good place to come when we run out of other stuff,” Quinn comments as they pass yet another aisle of food that remain pretty much intact. She has to say, she’s glad people are stupid enough to go after shit like money and movies instead of food when all hell breaks loose.  
  
    “Do the kids need anything,” Rachel asks, stopping in front of the aisle that has a few cheap toys that kids always bug for. There’s some coloring books and cheap parachute men, along with other stuff that’ll probably break after a few plays, like those damn paddle balls she could _never_ do (Puck told her this summer when she was hanging out with him and Jenna that it was because of her aversion to balls). “I know Stacey and I completely finished one of her coloring books last week.”  
  
    Quinn nods and starts to grab a princess one that Stacey probably has already when Santana shakes her head. “Get the Iron Man one.” Quinn’s hand pauses and for the first time, Santana notices that she’s wearing the ring Sam gave her when they dated. It’s funny how they’ve been shacked up for a while with nothing better to do than _stare_ at each other and it still took her this long to notice the bling. Rachel shifts next to her and Santana’s pretty sure she’s biting her tongue. Least she’s not stupid enough to say something now.  
  
    Quinn rolls the coloring book and tucks it into her back pocket as they walk two rows over to the health aisle.  
  
    “We should’ve grabbed a cart,” Rachel says, shining the flashlight on the still stocked row of tampons. She would find it funny that the smell is actually worse over here if the smell of all the spoiled meat wasn’t about to make her vomit.  
  
    “Let’s just grab what we can. It’s fucking _foul_ back here.” Something falls to the ground down the aisle and when Rachel puts the light in that direction, they both tense until they realize it’s only Quinn, emptying out an abandoned basket. “Jesus, Q.”  
  
    She shrugs and then looks at the rows of tampons before ripping open a box and pouring them into the basket. “We can get more this way right?” Rachel doesn’t look too sure so Santana just sighs, drops her arm, and starts breaking boxes open.  
  
    She looks absolutely ridiculous toting a basket filled to the brim with tampons and a superhero coloring book but she’d been the only one with free hands even though Rachel’s just holding the fucking flashlight, but they’re getting the fuck out of here in under five minutes and Rachel’s stopped glaring at the back of Quinn’s head so much so she chooses not to complain. Once they get to the end of the aisle, Santana hears that noise again and this time both girls stop on either side of her. “What was that,” Rachel asks and when Quinn sticks her hand out for the flashlight, the brunette hands it over without comment. Quinn takes two cautious steps towards the overturned tables and chairs by the Starbucks counter which, god damn it, she doesn’t care if it’s just two steps, they’re supposed to be sticking close. Santana sets down the basket and grabs the hunting blade from her hip, nudging Rachel to grab the bat she has slung over her shoulder. “Shouldn’t we just leave?” The flashlight shines through a crack in the furniture fort and Quinn’s back straightens.  
  
    “Come out,” Quinn orders and it’s still for a moment before Quinn takes another step closer. “Out _now_ or I’ll shoot.” She waits another beat and fuck, Santana hopes if something is back there, it’s already dead because she has no doubt in her mind that Quinn’ll shoot. Rachel puts her hand on Santana’s arm, opening her mouth to say something when Quinn pulls the trigger, hitting the edge of the wood. It’s a scare tactic, Santana knows she’s not a shit shot, and it does the trick because there’s scurrying from behind the tables before someone starts crawling out.  
  
    “ _That_ is why she’s ‘second in command’,” Santana says, tightening her grip on her blade as fucking Jacob Ben Israel stands up with his hands in the air, eyes squeezed shit.  
  
    “I’m sorry! Please don’t kill me,” he pleads and Quinn lowers her gun, letting out a breath as she runs her fingers through her hair.  
  
    “ _Jacob_ ,” Rachel asks and he opens his eyes, blinking as they get used to the light.  
  
    “Rachel?” He closes his eyes again, rubbing his fists against his eyelids. “Oh my god, am I dead?”  
  
    Santana rolls her eyes. “Surprised you lasted this long, Jew Fro.” She picks up the basket she abandoned and slips the knife back in its holder. “Let’s get out of here.”  
  
    “Where are you guys going,” Jacob asks, trying to slip in beside Rachel when they start walking away but both girls sandwich her before he can get too close.  
  
    “Away,” Santana answers, putting her free hand on Rachel’s lower back as Jacob starts hovering behind her. God, has he been in here the entire time? Creeper looks even paler than he used to and it’s freaking her the fuck out. “You can go back to your fort now.”  
  
    “D-do you guys have a safe place? With weapons? Are there others?” He scurries around, stopping them in their tracks when he plants himself in front of them. “Can I come with you guys?”  
  
    “No,” Santana and Quinn respond instantly and when Santana looks down at Rachel, she has this stupid sad look on her face. “ _No_ , Rachel.”  
  
    She shrugs a little, glancing at Jacob before turning back to Santana. “We can’t just leave him here alone. He’s defenseless.”  
  
    Jacob nods moronically and Quinn turns her nose up. “He made it this long. You’ll obviously be fine, Jacob.” She starts to guide them around him when he drops to his knees, hands clasped together like he’s about to pray to them.  
  
    “ _Please_ take me with you. Have you _seen_ the things crawling around outside? I don’t even know what day it is anymore. I’m completely alone here.”  
  
    “You have all the food you need. You’re _fine_ ,” Santana assures him and he shakes his head.  
  
    “I’m _scared_ ,” he admits, like it wasn’t obvious, and when she and Quinn try to walk around him again, Rachel keeps them in the same spot.  
  
    “We have the space,” she says softly and Santana shakes her head.  
  
    “Where’s he gonna sleep? With you and Kurt?”  
  
    Rachel wrinkles her nose. “He could bunk with Artie.”  
  
    “Shouldn’t Artie have a say in that?”  
  
    Jacob keeps pleading and crying, going as far as trying to take Quinn’s hand in his. “Don’t touch me,” she says simply, pointing her gun at him to make him back off just enough, and he turns his attention to Rachel who bites her lip.  
  
    “I can’t protect myself. The group I was with… Have you _seen_ what they do? What those things are capable of? It’s.. It’s _madness_. Please don’t leave me here, please, please, please.”  
  
    “I know we never really liked him,” Rachel starts and Santana can’t fight the bark of laughter.  
  
    “He might as well have Megan’s Law tattooed on that giant forehead of his.”  
  
    Rachel stumbles on her words, having to completely turn away from Jacob because apparently his face would hurt the case she’s trying to make for him. “But, well, everything’s different now. It’s all different and weird and, would having something so familiar to before be so bad?”  
  
    “When that something is Jacob, yes.”  
  
    Rachel glances back at Quinn who just shakes her head and uses her gun to motion for Jacob to stand up. “We can vote when we get to the house. You’re riding in the bed of the truck though.”  
  
    “Thank  you,” he repeats an annoying amount of times, only shutting up when Quinn aims the gun at his head after he tries to hug them.  
  
\--  
      
    “You are one _lucky_ motherfucker,” Santana sighs as he leads Jacob around the corner  into what used to be the Fabray’s living room. Brittany starts chastising her, going on about how she’s only getting a free pass because she’s on her period and, yeah, he doesn’t need to hear where this is going.  
  
    Jacob is walking around the living room, looking at what few personal belongings Mrs. Fabray kept up. “I can’t believe I’m in Quinn’s house,” he whispers, touching the last school photo Quinn took. Puck really fucking hopes he can find a scratch on this spazz because he really doesn’t want him around any of the girls. Hell, he doesn’t want him around any of them.  
  
    “C’mon, Jacob. Start… stripping.”  
  
    Santana snorts from behind the other side of the wall. “Oh my god, that is literally the only thing that makes him being here worth it.”  
  
    He really thought nobody besides Rachel would be the only one who would want this stalker to stay, not over fucking half of them. Not even _Artie_ said no and he was going to have to share a room with this dude, who, fuck, _definitely_ hadn’t showered since this shit went down. “Hey, tell Q to throw down some of the extra clothes we have.” Jacob starts to take off his tighty, not so white, whities and Puck’s eyes nearly bug out of his head. “Shit, no. I trust that you didn’t get touched in your junk.” The worn elastic snaps back against Jacob’s impossibly white skin and Puck takes a huge breath while he’s still far enough away before tapping Jacob’s arms and legs. He’s disgustingly dirty, to the point where he’s about to suggest they hose him off instead of actually letting him use the shower upstairs, but there aren’t any bite marks or scratches so it looks like Puck’s going to end up spending the end of the world with Jacob Ben fucking Israel.  
  
    “He checks out,” Puck says, grabbing the extra set of clothes (he has to keep thinking of them as extras and not Finn’s) from Santana.  
  
    She glares over his shoulder. “I can’t believe those assholes voted to keep him here.”  
  
    “I can hear you,” Jacob says lamely and Santana rolls her eyes.  
  
    Puck tosses Jacob the clothes and walks back into the entryway with Santana. “As dangerous as this could be with the kids around,” he starts, his voice barely above a whisper, “I want everyone to have a knife on them. _Especially_ at night.”  
  
    “I don’t think we should leave him alone with anyone… Or the food. Or the weapons. Can’t we just let him stay down here?” Jacob comes out of the room and, god, this fucker is so damn squirrelly looking, it’s freaking him out. “Do you _always_ breathe that loud?”  
  
    Jacob opens his mouth but all that comes out is a whine which is a let down because Puck was starting to look forward to seeing Santana punch him. “Food is ready,” Stevie announces from the landing. “Who is that?”  
  
    Puck scratches at the back of his neck. “He went to school with us, so he’ll be staying with us for a bit. Go start eating.” Stevie looks at them wearily for a second, hand clutching on to the railing, and Puck juts his chin before Stevie walks down the hall. “He’s hanging out with you too much.”  
  
    Santana shrugs, turning toward the ladder in an effort to hide her smile. “Only good sparring partner now that Quinn’s trying to watch her mouth around them or whatever.”  
  
\--  
  
    “I can’t believe you voted for that creep,” Puck says, glancing at the card table where Jacob is quietly eating his dinner between Tina and Brittany.  
  
    Mike shrugs, picking at his rice. “Tina thinks he should get a second chance. Maybe he’ll be different now that the rules have changed.” He takes a bite and then washes it down with a Capri sun. “Might be nice to-”  
  
    “Rachel’s an idiot,” Kurt says, dropping his bowel into the sink. “Nothing nice can come from that weirdo being here. I feel like I need to bathe just walking near him.”  
  
    “At least he doesn’t smell anymore,” Mike tries before pushing off the counter and walking back to join the card table.  
  
    “If Rachel had offered him our room, I would’ve killed her.”  
  
    Puck chuckles and then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “San said she was actually against that. Not enough to be a deal breaker apparently.” Kurt takes his bowl from him when he’s done, starting on the few dishes from lunch no one got around to. “I want you to keep a knife on you now that he’s here.”  
  
    “He’s creepy, sure, but I don’t think he’s dangerous, Puck.”  
  
    “I didn’t trust him when everything was normal so I sure as fuck don’t trust him now.” Puck pulls one of the smaller blades out of his pocket, setting it next to the sink. “Just in case, okay? I know there’s not a whole lot of space between all of us, but things happen fast.”  
  
    Kurt stares at the knife, the water running over his soapy fingers, and he nods. Puck smiles, claps a hand on Kurt’s shoulder and gives it a firm squeeze before going off to talk to Artie.  
  
\--  
  
  
    There’s no denying they’re in winter now. It’s steadily been getting colder and colder and around eight, it starts snowing. First snow of the season and it’s a blessing that they managed to get to November without any sort of storm. The blankets they’ve been using aren’t going to be enough and Quinn only has so many things the girls can layer with a whole lot less the boys can use. Puck keeps insisting he’s fine, even when he starts shivering against her. They’ll have to do a run soon to get more clothes, more blankets, but they’re going to need something to get through tonight as comfortable as possible.  
  
    Rachel’s digging in the hall closet, all the extra sheets and towels stacked around her. “Did you really never have a need for spare blankets,” she asks, slumping back and pulling the sleeves of the sweatshirt she borrowed over her hands.  
  
    “The only people who ever used to spend the night were Brittany and Santana. Who else would actually want to stay here? I barely did.” She picks up two of the towels along with some washcloths. “Our heat went out our first year here… My dad hated getting rid of stuff so they’re probably somewhere in the basement.”  
  
    Rachel nods. “Do you know where they’d be?”  
  
    “Probably against the back wall, near the Christmas stuff.” She hadn’t even thought of the holiday, or any, until now. Thanksgiving is coming up soon and they’ve already completely skipped passed Halloween… Rachel tucks her hair behind her ears and starts putting everything back in the closet. “I’ll go look for them after I’m done bathing the kids.”  
  
    “I can go down and get them. Will the boxes be marked?”  
  
    “Yeah. Make sure some-”  
  
    “I _know_ ,” Rachel says as she stands up. “I’m sure Puck will remind me too.”  
  
    “You do realize we’re not picking on you, right,” Quinn asks, putting all her weight on one hip as she tucks the towels under her arm. “And even so, we’re just trying to make sure you’re _safe_.”  
  
    “It’s overbearing,” Rachel says, closing the closet doors respectfully but the way she does it still somehow manages to irritate Quinn even more than she already is. “You don’t need to remind us all the time how we should keep safe. We’re not stupid.”  
  
    “Nobody seems to be complaining but you.” Rachel shrugs and, god, she’s suddenly struck with how annoyingly headstrong and difficult Rachel’s always been, only now Quinn has to deal with it in her own house. “You want us to stop caring, fine. Go get yourself killed.” Rachel shrugs again and Quinn locks her jaw as she heads back to the bathroom.  
  
\--  
  
    “Who wants to come downstairs with me,” Rachel asks as she walks into the living area, narrowly avoiding the parachute men Stevie’s playing with near the door. “Quinn thinks there could be some spare blankets in the basement.”  
  
    “I’ll go,” Jacob announces, tossing down his cards on the table. “I’m out anyway.”  
  
    Puck glares at him and Santana gets this small, evil grin on her face. “I think that’s perfect. Helping Rachel can be like, your thank you for saving your ass when Quinn could’ve and would’ve shot you.”  
  
    She can’t stop the wince from playing on her features. She’s notorious for giving people second chances, letting them prove they can change and she really does think that Jacob will be different now, but it’s the first day and the thought of going with him still makes her skin crawl. She’s the only reason he’s here though, and well, that really doesn’t leave room for her to complain. “Grab a lantern and then we’ll go get you a weapon,” she tells him, ignoring the smirk on Santana’s face.  
  
    “Only give him something small,” Puck reminds her. “Make sure you grab your bat.”  
  
\--  
  
    Even though the bath’s warm, Stacey’s shivering like a leaf when Quinn has her stand up. “I’m going as fast as I can, sweetheart.” Stacey nods, her bottom lip quivering as she continues the story she created between the shampoo and conditioner bottles as Quinn runs the soap over her. “I think you’re going to stay with me tonight, okay?”  
  
    “Stevie too?”  
  
    “Yep. We can all get into my bed with Puck and we’ll all be really warm. Go ahead and sit back down.” The water splashes on her shirt when Stacey plops back down, a soft sorry said in the middle of the speech the shampoo bottle is making.  
  
    “Hey Q, you almost done?”  
  
    “Puck,” Stacey exclaims, stretching her neck so that she can see Puck in the doorway around Quinn. “Did you know we’re having a sleepover tonight?”  
  
    Quinn takes the shampoo and pours some into her palm before giving it back to Stacey. “Stay still. I don’t want soap going into your eyes.”  
  
    She can hear Puck step into the bathroom as he answers, “I was actually going to suggest they bunk with us for a while.”  
  
    “Lean back and close your eyes,” she instructs, running her fingers through Stacey’s blonde hair. “What’s up?”  
  
    “Wanna go help Rachel and Jacob find those blankets?”  
  
    “They haven’t found them yet?”  
  
    Puck shakes his head as he sits down on the toilet seat, putting the towels on his lap. “Figured you’d be able to find them the fastest.”  
  
    “Will you finish her up and then start on Stevie?” She taps the back of Stacey’s head to get the girl to sit up again, wringing out her hair as gently as she can.  
  
    “’Course.”  
  
    Stacey’s eyes are wider as shit sits back up. “Does this mean you can give me a mohawk again,” she asks, holding out the conditioner bottle for him.  
  
    Puck grins while Quinn rolls her eyes, drying her hands on his shirt as he takes her spot. “Sure thing,” he says, squirting a liberal amount of conditioner in his hand. “Oh, and Q? Take your gun. I know it’s just downstairs but-”  
  
    She slips into her sweatshirt, nudging his foot with hers before pressing a kiss to the back of his head and turning out of the room.  
  
\--  
  
    She could kill Rachel.  
  
    Quinn clutches on to the handrail when her ankle rolls, kicking Rachel’s bat out of the way with her good foot once she’s settled on her feet at the bottom of the stairs. She has no idea what possessed her to just drop it in the most dangerous place possible and she actually barks out, “ _Rachel_ ,” as her flashlight illuminates Jacob’s back and Rachel’s hands that he has pinned above her head. “What…” It hits her all at once what she’s looking at but somehow still feels like it’s in slow motion. Jacob’s fingers are digging into Rachel’s wrists, her hands spread out like she’s trying to claw for _something_ , his knee pushing up between Rachel’s legs to the point where her feet are barely touching the ground. Jacob turns back to look at her, eyes squinting at the harsh light and his hair casts a shadow over Rachel’s now visible face. He has his fist shoved as far as it will go in Rachel’s mouth and Quinn can hear just how heavy Rachel’s breathing around the skin and bones. All of the other sounds are muffled until Jacob starts pulling away, his eyes now wide, and she hears that first sob leave Rachel’s mouth as Jacob manages to laugh nervously. He’s twitching a little and Quinn can tell he’s trying not to look at her.  
  
    He opens his mouth and before he even fully turns his body towards her, Quinn shoots him in the head. Rachel screams, tripping over the discarded lantern as she moves out of the way of Jacob’s falling body. “Are you okay,” she asks, shining the light over Rachel to see if there’s anything she didn’t see before. Rachel shakes her head, covering her face with her hands as she pulls herself into a ball.  
  
    She can hear the commotion going on upstairs but she can’t focus on that now because Rachel’s crying so hard Quinn thinks she might throw up. She walks over to Jacob’s body, nudging him on to his back with her foot. Blood spills from the wound on his head and a shiver runs through her body when she sees his eyes staring at her. She turns his head so that it’s facing away from both of them and then sits down next to Rachel on the freezing concrete. Carefully, she wraps an arm around Rachel’s shaking shoulders, the brunette tensing before pressing into her side.  
  
    “What’s going on,” Puck shouts from the top of the stairs and when he steps down one of the stairs, she tells him to stop.  
  
    “We’re fine. Give us a minute. We’ll come up.” Rachel deflates next to her and Quinn pulls back enough to take Rachel’s hands in hers. There are red fingerprints on her wrists and Quinn’s pretty sure there will be bruises there tomorrow morning. She swallows thickly, putting Rachel’s hands back in her lap and then smoothes Rachel’s hair down. “You’re okay. It’s okay now.”  
  
    Rachel nods weakly, her hand going up to touch Quinn’s elbow. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, sniffling as she uses her other hand to wipe her cheeks.  
  
    “There’s nothing to apologize for.” She runs her hand up and down Rachel’s back. “Come on. Just take deep breaths and then we’ll face everyone upstairs.”  
  
\--  
  
    She tries to tell him that she can walk just fine but she’s tired and it’s easier not looking at either of them when she’s hiding her face against Puck’s chest. “Watch her feet,” Quinn says behind them and when they reach the top of the stairs, Puck turns them so there’s no risk of her even touching the doorframe.  
  
    “What happened,” Mike asks and Puck completely ignores him, taking her into the kitchen while Quinn asks Mike to help her move a body.  
  
    She expects to be put down but Puck just holds her tighter as he leans against the counter, resting his cheek on the top of her head. “Are you going to say I told  you so,” she asks. Her hand goes up to rub her jaw, her muscles impossibly sore and she wonders if taking a handful of snow to it will help or if the sting will hurt more.  
  
    “’Course not.” He pats her thigh. “Santana probably will though.”  
  
    She presses a kiss to the underside of his chin as Quinn and Mike drop Jacob’s body on the floor, their breathing labored. She’d bet this is the warmest they’ve been all week. “I asked him about the group he’d been with.” He tries to readjust her and she shakes her head, putting her feet back on the ground. His fingers lace through hers, trying to anchor her down, and she chooses to stare at their intertwined hands instead of his face. “They had been going to the store when they were attacked. Out of 20, _Jacob_ made it out.”  
  
    “Not really a wimpy fuck face anymore, huh?”  
  
    He strokes her hand with his thumb as she shakes her head, finally looking up at him. “I’m not weak.” She can hear someone walk in behind her and a shiver runs through her body even though she knows that she’s safe now. “I’m _not_.”  
  
    “I know, Rach. I know you’re not weak.” He pulls her close, his arms wrapping around her and she can feel herself tensing. She keeps repeating in her head that this is Noah, that it’s all okay now, but her breathing gets faster and erratic and she can hear Quinn telling Puck to give her some space.  
  
    She curls her hand around his arm as she takes a few deep breaths. “He was really strong,” she says softly. She’s been really good about not missing people, but right now all she can really think about is how much she wants Finn or her fathers to be there instead of him. Her fathers would know exactly what to do and if Finn were here… This wouldn’t have happened. He would’ve gone downstairs with her and everything would have been fine.  
  
    She can hear more people coming downstairs and she hopes that some people are staying upstairs because she’s having a hard enough time with Quinn and Puck looking at her. She’s not sure she can handle everyone right now.  
  
    It’s Kurt who ends up running his fingers through her hair, his face completely fallen. “Come on,” he says, pulling her away from Puck. This is better. This is less threatening. She falls into him like she fell into Quinn and lets him walk her back towards the stairs.  
  
    As she’s about to step on to the ladder, she can hear Puck and Quinn agreeing that nobody else comes into the house.  
  
    She should’ve listened to them.  
  
\--  
  
    “You did what needed to be done,” Santana tells her as she’s about to walk into the kids’ room. She nods and Brittany gives her a smile over Santana’s shoulder that has her feeling sick to her stomach.  
  
    She braids Stacey’s hair, apologizes when she pulls too tight, and then asks her to go wait in her bedroom. She reminds her to knock first, just in case.  
  
    “Quinn,” Stevie shouts when she opens the bathroom door, and she covers her eyes to make him feel better. He’s old enough to take his own baths now but she remembers Sam telling her once that he was at the age where he would just stand in the water and then get out. They may be in the middle of hell but she’s not having a smelly little boy running around this place when there’s practically no space to call their own.  
  
    Puck chuckles (he’s the only one Stevie will let in the bathroom) and tells Stevie to cover up so he can go get his pajamas on. A few seconds later Stevie goes shivering past her, mumbling under his breath about how she needs to learn manners and that’s enough for the corner of her lips to upturn. She closes the door behind her, turning the lock as she watches Puck soak up the bath water that tipped over the side with an old towel. She tugs her sweatpants down, kicking them off once they reach her feet. “Noah.”  
  
    He looks over his shoulder, slumping so that he’s sitting down once he sees her, and shakes his head. “What’re you doing, Q?”  
  
    She opens up the third drawer and fishes out a condom that she’s hidden beneath most of their tampons (the kids don’t go through much, but she can’t handle that talk just yet. Not now. She’s not sure she’ll ever be able to, actually. But she’s not going to leave that up to Puck). “I killed someone.” She swallows thickly, glancing at herself in the mirror and she looks absolutely horrible. If this had been before, she never would’ve let anyone see her like this. Her hair is in a ponytail that’s a little less than perfect, she has no make up on, and her sweatshirt completely dwarfs her. “He wasn’t a… thing. He was still breathing. His heart was still beating.” She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, closing her eyes when she can’t handle the stinging anymore.  
  
    “He had a weapon. He was hurting Rachel. What else were you supposed to do?” She can hear him undoing his belt, the buckle hitting the tile loudly, and she turns towards him, tossing him the condom when she opens her eyes again.  
  
    “I could’ve gotten you. I could’ve grabbed Rachel’s bat and just hit him. But instead I shot him.” She kneels between his legs, leaning into his palm when he cups her cheek.  
  
    “You did the right thing, Quinn. What if it had been Stacey? What if it had been you?” He pulls her closer as she nods and she moves so that she’s straddling his thighs. “You were protecting us. You saved Rachel.”  
  
    His other hand grips her hip. “You’re right,” she whispers, her forehead dropping down on to his shoulder. “But I want to forget.” He pats her hip and she rises on to her knees as he tears open the condom.  
  
\--  
      
    “Breakfast is ready.” Quinn looks up from what she’s doing at her desk, waving her over once she peers over the rim of her glasses.  
  
    “I found a really good picture when I was looking through some things last night after dinner,” Quinn explains, pushing her glasses up into her hair that she hasn’t pulled back yet. Rachel looks down at the photo in Quinn’s hand. It’s of Puck, Finn and Quinn on the bleachers at some school that isn’t McKinley and it’s definitely from before Rachel really knew any of them. They all look so young and the difference between the Quinn and Puck she lives with and the ones in the picture is almost frightening. She takes it from Quinn, looking on the back and finding the date written in Quinn’s loopy handwriting.  
  
    “I met him the week after this,” she says softly.  
  
    “I thought you might want it.” She looks at Quinn for a moment before staring at her dead boyfriend. “I think that’s the best picture I have of him. You can crop us out, obviously.”  
  
    “It’s a really nice picture of all of you. I wouldn’t want to ruin it… Unless you wanted the half with you and Noah.”  
  
    Quinn rolls her eyes and starts stacking up the pictures on her desk. “Why would I? I look horrible.” She pauses, looking down at her sweatshirt and pajama pants, laughing a little. “Well, not as horrible as I do now, but I’m surprised I left the house with how I was back then.”  
  
    Rachel’s not going near that because though Quinn is beautiful, this is truthfully the most run down she’s seen Quinn look. Rachel tucks her hair behind her ears as she clears her throat. “It’s a very nice picture of you and Noah. Don’t you want…” Quinn arches an eyebrow. They’ve definitely been getting closer ever since Quinn saved her two months ago, may actually be friends with her now, but this is still territory she’s not comfortable with.  
  
    “You can ask. Nothing would have stopped you from asking before.”  
  
    “Yeah, but if I pissed you off before, I still had a home to go to,” she says, prompting Quinn to roll her eyes again.  
  
    “I’m not going to throw you out, Rachel.”  
  
    She drops down on the edge of the bed, curling her feet underneath herself to keep them warm. “Aren’t you and Noah together now?”  
  
    “No,” Quinn answers simply, spinning around in her chair to look at Rachel.  
  
    “But…” Quinn’s eyebrow raises and Rachel takes a deep breath, hands fisting inside her sweatshirt pocket. “I just don’t understand I guess. Before everything happened, you two were friends at best and now you’re… well, you two may as well have a picket fence.”  
  
    Quinn shakes her head, a small sad smile playing on her lips. She’s not looking at the brunette and Rachel follows her gaze to the picture frame on the bedside table. That’s probably the only family picture Puck and Quinn have (even though Quinn says she wouldn’t kick her out, Rachel knows Quinn would in a heartbeat if she brought up Beth). “Puck is… I love him, I trust him. Probably more than anyone else in the world now. But even if everything gets better, Puck isn’t someone I plan to marry.” Quinn shrugs before gathering her hair in her hands.  
  
    “You two are sleeping together.”  
  
    Quinn pulls the hair tie from her wrist and the look Rachel gets has her back straightening. “It’s better than fighting with each other. Better than crying too.”  
  
    Rachel nods slowly and stands up, tucking the picture in her pocket. “We should go get breakfast.”  
  
    “I hope you know that there is really no point in fighting with each other anymore.” She looks back and Quinn is slipping into her slippers before she gets up. “You don’t have to act like I’m going to turn on you at any second.”  
  
    “I _can’t_ fight with you anymore. After what you did… I know I’ve told you before, but I really can’t thank you enough.”  
  
    Quinn brushes her off. “I used to make your life hell. This is the least I could do.”  
  
    They walk side by side down the hall and Rachel shakes her head. “If you think there’s still some score to settle, there’s not. We’re even now.” The corner of Quinn’s lips turn up just slightly before they walk in to the living area.  
  
\--  
  
    Puck drops down next to him, leaning in close to read over his shoulder. “Must you always do that,” Kurt asks and Puck shrugs, relaxing on Rachel’s side of the bed.  
  
    “You and Q… Always acting like I’m reading your diary when I hover.”  
  
    Kurt slips the flap of the book cover between the pages to mark his place. “Because it’s annoying.” Puck rolls his eyes before stretching, a yawn tearing through his body. “You don’t have to keep doing these weekly sit downs, Puck. It’s been three months.”  
  
    “He was our brother,” Puck breathes out with a tiny shrug. Kurt rolls on to his side, propping his head up on his elbow. “I know that for the most part we’re fine but… It helps me remember him, ya know?”  
  
    “Yeah…” Some things have already started getting fuzzy, like what exactly Finn smelled like and what his laugh sounded like, and it doesn’t make sense because he has all the time in the world to think about his family, to preserve them in his memory. If he’s constantly thinking about them, shouldn’t he remember everything with startling clarity? “Sometimes I think it might be easier to forget all together.”  
  
    “You and Q,” Puck repeats, laughing a little. “You’re like her with a dick. ‘Cept slightly less issues.”  
  
    Kurt rolls his eyes. “At this point, we’ve all got issues.”  
  
    Puck drums his fingers on his stomach and the beat is familiar but he can’t place it. “You ever think about Blaine? Or does he fall in the forget category?”  
  
    Puck looks at him when he’s been quiet for too long and Kurt lets out a breath. “Honestly? I haven’t thought about him since before everything hit the fan.” he closes his eyes for a second, tries to imagine Blaine but the most he remembers is a shapeless blob in Warbler colors. He opens his eyes, shaking his head. “Guess he wasn’t as high on my list of priorities as I thought he was.”  
  
    “I thought you weren’t supposed to forget your first love or some shit like that.” Kurt rolls his eyes, shoving Puck in the shoulder.  
  
    “Must not have been my first love then.”  
  
    “Yeah,” Puck asks, his eyebrows raised in surprise.  
  
    Kurt nods. “It’s been years since my mom died and even though I can barely remember things about her, I can still see her vividly in my head. Blaine… He’s like a dream I had months ago that I’m trying to remember. Eventually, we’ll all just forget.”  
  
    “You think so?”  
  
    “Have you thought about Lauren?”  
  
    Puck folds his arms under his head. “I did that day, when we were still at school. She knew how to handle herself but…” He shrugs. “My focus has been on everyone here, the kids especially. You all are what’s important now.”  
  
    Kurt squeezes Puck’s elbow, smiling a little before he rolls on to his back. “What you’re doing would mean a lot to Finn. He knew you’d make sure Rachel and I were safe.”  
  
    Puck swallows audibly. “He’d want you guys to be happy.”  
  
    “We’re all as happy as we can be.” Kurt picks up his book, scooting closer so that Puck can see the words too. “Do you want me to read out loud or do you get a certain amount of gratification from reading over my shoulder?”  
  
    Puck turns Kurt’s wrist so that he can get a good look at the time. “May as well read it out loud. I could use a nap anyway.”  
  
\--  
  
    Brittany has a habit of singing under her breath when she helps him do his leg exercises. He’s pretty sure he’s heard the Spice Girls’ entire catalog by now and today she’s moved on to what he thinks is a Backstreet Boys’ song. Brittany does _not_ take requests. She stops midverse and looks up at him. “I wonder what happened to Kevin.”  
  
  
    “Who?”  
  
    She bends his left leg and then starts massaging the muscles in his calf. “Kevin. He was the only one who didn’t participate in the reunion tour.”  
  
    “It wasn’t a reunion tour,” Tina says as she plops down next to his head, a small bowl of dry Captain Crunch in her hand. “They never broke up.”  
  
    Brittany rolls her eyes. “But Kevin wasn’t there. That means there was some sort of break up going on.” There’s a distinct rumble outside and Brittany’s fingers pause, pushing into his skin to the point where if he could feel it, he thinks it’d hurt. Every so often a vehicle will putter down the street but it’s always rare, especially now that it’s been snowing.  
  
    Mike peeks out the window in the bathroom before yelling, “Just another looter moving past us.”  
  
    “You ever wonder if there’s anyone trying to help out there,” Artie asks once Brittany’s hands start moving again.  
  
    “Like the government?”  
  
    “Doubtful,” Santana says from her spot at the table, flipping through a months old copy of Martha Stewart Living. “They’ve probably quarantined the state and that’s about all they’ll do.”  
  
    “Maybe they’ve just been waiting for winter,” Mike chimes in. “In The Walking Dead, the walkers moved much slower in winter. It was easier to avoid or kill them then.”  
  
    “Oh my god, you’re as bad as-” Santana cuts herself off abruptly and the veins in Brittany’s wrist are more pronounced when she works up to his knee. “I don’t think the bigwigs are looking at a TV show for pointers.”  
  
    “What if somebody does come though? Takes us to a safer place,” Tina asks, tossing a cereal square in to Artie’s mouth when he opens it.  
  
    “A safer place like…”  
  
    “California,” Artie breathes out. “You said that the states were mostly east, right? California is about as far west as we can go. Plus there wouldn’t be any snow.”  
  
    Santana’s eyebrows furrow. “Doesn’t it snow in-”  
  
    “We could go swimming in the ocean,” Brittany exclaims, taking his ankles in her hands, moving his legs like he used to when he could still swim.  
  
    “Brit, just because there’s no snow-”  
  
    “If they quarantined the states then California should still be safe, right,” Tina asks and she holds her hand up for Mike to take, tugging him down to the floor. “I bet all the celebrities are safe. I don’t think the zombies could get past those huge security gates if they did manage to get out there.”  
  
    “I hope Megan Fox is still alive,” Brittany adds, straightening his right leg and resting it on her shoulder. If he looks back enough, he can see Santana glaring at him a little bit. It’s not nearly as bad as it was before, back when he legit thought Santana would slash his tires (or hands), but he can’t really find it in him to care that this still upsets her. Brittany and Tina are the only ones who know his routine, Brittany even more so, and he has to do this at least twice a day. If he doesn’t, he’ll get sores which could get infected which takes them to a whole realm of trouble they _can’t_ deal with.  
  
    “Do you think they’d make us go back to school right away? Or hold us back,” Mike asks and Santana rolls her eyes.  
  
    “I don’t think education is going to be high on their priority list when there’s bodies everywhere and the people qualified to teach us are dead.”  
  
    “Maybe they’ll just let us graduate. It’s not like we really do much senior year anyway,” Tina adds as Santana tosses the magazine to the center of the table.  
  
    “If that’s the case, then I’m totally down with California.”  
  
    “We could live on the beach, right San? Oh, but then you wouldn’t be able to visit us, Artie. Unless you got, like, truck tires on your wheel chair.”  
  
    “I don’t know if I’d want to go somewhere here… If we’re free from everything, why not travel to Europe? It’d be totally safe there too.” Mike slings an arm around Tina’s shoulders, the girl sinking into his side. “How do you feel about France?”  
  
    Tina smiles. “I could eat pastries all day. Think of all the nutella.”  
  
    Brittany switches his legs and bite the corner of her lip. “What’s up,” he asks as Tina and Mike argue about whether savory or sweet crepes are better.  
  
    “What happens if we run out of food before anyone comes?”  
  
    Mike and Tina fall silent, Santana’s chair creaking when she sits up straighter. “That store still had a lot of food,” Santana says quietly, forcing a small smile on to her face when Brittany looks over at her.  
  
    He tries to put his hand on Brittany’s when it’s close enough to reach, but she pulls back, slumping on to her knees. “Do you think we’ll all still be here when the government comes?” She sounds so tiny but somehow not really scared. Her blue eyes don’t tear up and he doesn’t know what anyone else’s reaction is because he can’t stop staring at her blank face, her fingers creating a pattern against his thigh he almost thinks he can feel instead of just see.  
  
    Santana walks up behind Brittany, her arms draping around the blonde’s neck, her palms finding purchase over her heart. He thinks he sees a wet trail on Santana’s cheeks but he blames it on dirty glasses. He pulls them off, wiping down the lenses thoroughly so that he can’t make out the details of what’s happening in front of him. Santana’s lips press right above Brittany’s ear in a blur, both of their eyes closing before Brittany nods.  
  
    He never had that with Brittany (never had that with anyone) and he wonders how much longer it’ll take for Santana to see he never was (never will be) a threat to their relationship.  
  
    Brittany pats his thigh and then lowers his legs down, whispering, “Excuse me,” as she takes Santana’s hand in hers, the two of them disappearing down the hall.  
  
    He pushes himself up into a sitting position, slipping his glasses back on. “You don’t really think we’ll lose anyone else, do you,” Tina asks.  
  
    Mike shrugs next to her, stealing a few bits of cereal from the bowl. “We’ve managed to last four and a half months unscathed,” Artie says. “Our set up is pretty damn decent too.”  
  
    “Accidents happen though,” Mike reminds them. Overall, Mike’s been handling what happened pretty well. But it’s hard not to make it sound like he’s partly to blame when they talk about what happened the day Brittany shot Mr. Buce (nobody, except Rachel, refer to it as the day Finn died). They can’t say they’ve learned from their mistakes when it comes to group sizes, they can’t bring up the fact that the only person they’ve lost to zombies was only with Mike when he died. That casualty was so different from Sam’s. Doesn’t hurt anymore or less, but there’s so much more guilt to weigh them down with Finn.  
  
    Tina swallows hard and squeezes Mike’s thigh. “We gotta take this one day at a time.” She kisses Mike’s cheek and whispers something Artie can’t hear.  
  
    “Yeah,” Mike breathes out, standing up with Tina.  
  
    “Do you need help getting back in your chair,” she asks and when he tells her no, she nods. “We’re going to go lay down for a bit.”  
  
    He can hear various noises coming from different parts of the house. Stacey and Stevie are laughing, Kurt is yelling at Puck, and Rachel’s singing some Barbra song he’s never heard before. He swallows thickly from his spot on the floor and tries to ignore that he’s alone in the only silent room.  
  
\--  
  
    Sometime in February, a looter breaks the lock on the back door. The house is, as always, amazingly quiet and he hears it the minute whoever starts hammering into the lock. Tina doesn’t wake up, just snuggles further into him, but he hears someone else, his best bet is Puck, getting up down the hall.  
  
    He tries to slip out of bed without waking his girlfriend but her eyes open as soon as he has one leg off the bed. “Where are you going,” she asks, voice heavy with sleep. The door downstairs cracks open and Tina pushes herself up, blinking wildly. “What was that?”  
  
    “I think a looter. Stay here.”  
  
    She crosses her arms. “Mike, I can handle myself against a _looter_.”  
  
    He takes a deep breath. “I know, baby. But just… It’s late and please, just stay here till I assess the situation.”  
  
    “You can turn around right now or I can shoot you right now,” Puck yells outside and Mike grabs the gun they keep in the bedside table as Tina counts to three, a gunshot echoing in the house when the last syllable passes her lips. She scrambles to her feet the minute she hears crying across the hall, meeting Quinn at the kids’ door. He can see Stevie clutching Stacey tight, tears streaming down both their faces before Quinn shut the door.  
  
    “We should find the kids earplugs,” Mike says once he’s next to Puck. The body of someone he’s never seen before lies in a heap on the floor, blood staining the wood beneath him.  
  
    “I think we should find another lock first. Cut out the middle man.” Brittany slinks in between them, her hair sticking to her forehead and gunk in the corner of her eyes. “Go back to bed, Brit.”  
  
    She makes a noise in the back of her throat, taking the rifle from Puck’s hand. “You should’ve given him a warning shot.”  
  
    “I gave him a _warning_ and besides, we can’t afford to waste the bullets,” Puck says as gently as he can.  
  
    Mike slips his hand into Brittany’s free one and Santana’s arm slips around her waist. “It’s probably better this way… Least now he doesn’t have to live like this,” Santana whispers.  
  
    Brittany shakes her head, pulling away from all of them. “What if he had friends alive? Family?” Her voice cracks and Santana tries to catch her wrist but Brittany curls into herself, backing up against the wall. “And they won’t know what happened to him because…” She licks her lips, staring past them. “What if that happened to one of us? What if people come looking for him?” Her gaze drops to the ground and even though he can’t see her face clearly now, he knows that she’s crying just by how she’s standing.  
  
    “It was him or us, Brittany,” Puck says after a moment and the blonde shakes her head.  
  
    “I don’t like this… What could he have done? It’s not like he was a zombie or doing something bad like Jacob.”  
  
    Santana takes a deep breath, silently apologizing to both of them as she walks over to her girlfriend. She sinks on to her knees, forcing Brittany to look at either her or them. “What if he brought back people with more guns? What if he figured out how to get up here? He broke in after all… That means he thought we’d have good stuff here.” Santana pulls Brittany’s hands from where they’re balled up at her side, lightly running over pale skin. “Lets go lay down, baby. We can talk more when we’re back under the covers, okay?”  
  
    Brittany whimpers but lets Santana drag her away, the rifle left leaning against the wall. “I did the right thing.” He doesn’t say it like a question but Mike claps a hand on his shoulder anyway and nods.  
  
    “Puck?” Tina lingers in the doorway of the kids’ room, tipping her head back. “Quinn’s going to spend the rest of the night in here.”  
  
    “We’ll get up early and move him,” Mike says, walking over to pick up the rifle. “Tina and I will go close up the house. Get some sleep.”  
  
    “Thanks dude.” Puck squeezes Tina’s hand as they pass.  
  
    Mike hands Tina the rifle and then lowers down the ladder. “Do you ever think about having kids?” He slips on the third step and he looks up at her once he finds his footing again.  
  
    “ _Now_? Because I’m not… I love you Tina, but I’m not about to pull a Glenn and Maggie.” He takes his rifle from her as she rolls her eyes, climbing down now that he’s safely on the ground.  
  
    “I’m not saying now. I just mean in general. Have you _ever_ thought about having kids?”  
  
    “I kind of did when Quinn was pregnant,” he says, scratching at the back of his head. “But that was nothing too serious.” Tina takes the gun back, nodding in agreement. “And I guess sometimes I think about it when I’m hanging out with the kids but… I don’t know. It’s hard to imagine something so normal anymore.”  
  
    There’s a low moaning coming from the kitchen and then something falls to the ground with a thud. Tina raises the rifle as he turns off the safety on his own gun. He tries to ignore how bad his hands are shaking, tries to block out the kissing sound of death around the corner. This is the first time since Finn died that he’s heard that sound and no matter how many times he repeats to himself that they’ll both be fine, he can’t help but think this could be it.  
  
    Tina steps in front of him, the butt of the gun set against her shoulder. “I know you want to protect me,” she starts quietly. “But you have to let me protect you too. Take a deep breath, okay love?” She waits until he takes two deep breaths before turning into the kitchen and she’s going about this too dangerously. She’s an okay shot, it's something they’ve been working on with a BB gun they picked up on their last run, but she’s waiting until the zombie can practically grab her until she shoots. Tina cocks back the gun quickly, the other zombie frenzying but she takes that one out too. She looks calm but her breathing gives her away.  
  
    “All clear!” He presses himself up against her back and she sinks into him immediately, taking his arms in her hands and wrapping them around her waist when he kisses the back of her head. “We’re okay,” she says, digging her nails into the back of his hand and he has to admit, it’s nice to know he can still feel.  
  
    “You ever think about it?”  
  
    She swallows hard, shrugging lamely before he gives her another kiss, this one right above her ear, and then pulls away. “Before you, I never really thought about kids.”  
  
    He starts pulling out the deep freezer that the Fabray’s kept off the side of the kitchen across from their pantry. “And now?”  
  
    Tina helps him push it into place against the back door, tucking her hair behind her ears when they’re done. “Now…” She sighs and slumps on the freezer. “I would have really liked to see what out kids would be like… Not just what they would look like, but if they would’ve been more like you or me or a combo of both. Not that I wanted to have kids with you right then. It was just a what if for my future.” He sits next to her, throwing an arm around her shoulders. “Now though… You’re right. It’s hard to think of something so domestic now. I don’t know understand how anyone can bring someone else into this.”  
  
    “You ever think things will go back to normal,” he asks, hooking his ankle around hers. “Honestly?”  
  
    “I don’t know,” she exhales. “How can I go back to school when I’ve lost friends, family? Especially now that I know I can survive on next to nothing?” She shakes her hand and then grabs a chunk of her hair, twisting the faded dye between her fingers.  
  
    He stands up, stretching his limbs before he takes her hands in his, pulling until she stands up. “C’mon. Dance with me.” Her smile is faint but there and he slips an arm around her waist, raising her other hand in his. “This still feels normal to me. Especially if I’m doing it with you.” Her smile grows and she tightens her form before he leads them around the rubble, bodies, and blood in a Viennese waltz.  
  
\--  
  
    A week later two more looters have managed to get in (one, smartly, left at the warning) and a handful of other zombies. They’ve been trying to avoid leaving unless absolutely necessary because it’s been snowing hard and none of them except for her really have the proper clothes to go out in a storm. But the smell of the bodies is just serving to get them sick, not to mention it’s attracting more zombies. Or could be anyway.  
  
    “We’ll have to get rid of them soon,” Quinn says to Mike as they sit side by side at the end of the hallway, stretching as they watch Brittany teach Stacey a pirouette. She can tell that Stacey’s starting to get frustrated that she can’t do it exactly like Brittany, but her friend is patient with her, her hands carefully guiding Stacey through every move.  
  
    Stevie pokes his head out of his room and the minute he opens his mouth, Mike clears his throat. “Don’t say anything that would make her want to give up.”  
  
    Stevie’s face scrunches, his arms crossing over his chest. Sometimes, she’d swear he’s Santana’s brother instead of Sam’s. “I wasn’t going to say anything mean.”  
  
    Mike shakes his head. “What were you going to say? Because if it wasn’t nice, she doesn’t need to hear it.”  
  
    Stevie has a much harder time listening to anyone other than Puck, Santana, and herself and so his scowl really sinks into his features before he turns to Quinn. “Do you think the tooth fairy ever leaves food instead of money?”  
  
    “What do you mean, Stevie?”  
  
    He pulls his arms into the sleeves of his shirt and tries balancing on one foot. “Well I don’t really have any use for a dollar anymore, but I really like raviolis and we ran out of those.”  
  
    Mike slowly exhales and, god, somehow this hurts her just as much as it does when the kids ask about Sam. “Maybe… We’ll have to wait till tomorrow to see.” He nods and then turns back into his room. “God,” she breathes out, leaning forward to touch the toes on her outstretched leg.  
  
    “If we take the bodies today, maybe we could swing by a store,” Mike whispers though he doesn’t have to.  
  
    “I’m going to feel horrible if I don’t get him a can.” She wraps her hands around her foot and her back pops just before she sits back up. “It’s the least I can do.”  
  
    Mike brings his legs together, shaking his head. “You and Puck do all that you can for them.”  
  
    “I wish I could give them more than this.” They look up when Stacey starts shrieking and they watch as the tiny blond does a pirouette perfectly. Brittany claps before scooping Stacey up in her arms as Mike helps Quinn get to her feet.  
  
    “They’re happy, Quinn. What more could you do?”  
  
    “By the end of the week, this little girlie could do all of Swan Lake,” Brittany proudly exclaims as Stacey laughs from her spot on Brittany’s hip.  
  
    “That was amazing, Stace,” Quinn says, pushing back a stray hair that full out of Stacey’s bun. “I think I might have one of my old tutus in a box.”  
  
    “I think she should only get the tutu if she agrees to give us a performance,” Mike says and Stacey’s cheeks turn pink.  
  
    “In front of everyone?”  
  
    Quinn presses a kiss against her forehead. “How about just us,” she suggests, pointing to the four of them. She still doesn’t look too sure and Stacey starts playing with Brittany’s hair until Quinn has another idea. “What If we all danced together?”  
  
    Stacey’s eyes light up and she nods enthusiastically. “We can all be swans!” She looks at Mike and she blushes again. “Except you, M. You don’t have to be a swan . You can be the prince!”  
  
    Mike laughs and nods as Brittany hikes Stacey higher on her hip. “C’mon. Lets go show San.”  
  
    “Can we show Da-I mean Puck too?” Brittany glances at her and Quinn bites her lip.  
  
    “Why don’t you show Santana first?” Stacey nods and Brittany leads them into the room where Santana’s reading.  
  
    “Is that the first time she’s done that,” Mike asks once Brittany’s shut the door.  
  
    “No… Stevie actually didn’t catch himself once and called me mom.” She rubs her forehead, exhaling heavily as Rachel, Tina, and Artie break out into some song she can’t figure out just yet. “He wouldn’t talk to me for the rest of the day, but I get it… Still weird for me to be called that even though…”  
  
    “You going in with the new members of Outkast?”  
  
    She smiles but shakes her head. “I think I’m going to talk to Puck for a bit.” He comes out of Kurt and Rachel’s room just as she’s about to knock and rather than quirk an eyebrow, she lets her whole body sag. “We have to talk about some things, she says as he shuts the door behind him.  
  
    He wraps an arm around her shoulders and when she takes a deep breath, the comfort he brings her is different. It reminds her a lot of before.  
  
\--  
  
    “I think this is the warmest I’ve been in a while,” Rachel says as they bound down a strip of unfinished road on the other side of town. The heater is on only enough to keep the windshield clear but the fact that she’s shoved on to the bench with Quinn, Tina, and Santana means their body heat is making the whole cab of the truck toasty. She wipes away the fogginess from the window next to her, squinting to make out the boys in the bed. There’s no way they’re not freezing.  
  
    “I would suggest we all start bunking together but I like my space too much.” Santana pauses for a second. “Plus, I don’t want to have to get up to fuck my girlfriend.”  
  
    “Santana,” Quinn groans, leaning forward to clear a bit of the window.  
  
    The girl shrugs next to her. “What? It’s the truth. For the most part, people are still getting laid in our house.” Rachel shifts uncomfortably and Santana’s face changes into what Rachel thinks is a sympathetic look. “You totally would be too if-”  
  
    “ _Santana_ ,” Quinn repeats as she slows to a stop in the middle of a field.  
  
    The boys hop off the back of the truck when Quinn cuts the engine. Santana climbs on to the roof, laughing under her breath that it’s been a long time since she’s been up there, and everyone else pairs off to get the bodies out as fast as possible. There’s 10 or so bodies and they only manage to get 3 off and into the melting snow when Santana cocks the rifle in her hand. Rachel drops the arms in her hands when she sees the horde trudging slowly through the snow.  
  
    “Everyone get back in the car,” Puck shouts even though they’re all right there.  
  
    “What about what we haven’t unloaded,” Kurt asks, staring as the zombies get even closer to them, the snow giving way to them easily.  
  
    “We’ll dump them as we go. C’mon, in the truck, now.”  
  
    Tina has to physically pull Rachel off the edge of the truck and Quinn makes both girls slide in on her side before hopping behind the wheel. Santana slides off the roof, landing in the back of the truck with a thud and Rachel hears her growl through gritted teeth. Through the fogged up window, she can see Kurt running over to Santana who is clutching her ankle next to the first looter who broke in. Quinn turns the key, the engine scratching as it tries to turn over. Come on, Quinn,” Puck yells as he and Mike shove another body off the edge of the bed.  
  
    “I’m trying,” she snaps, turning trying to bring the car to life again only to fail.  
  
    Tina rolls down her window, sticking her head out to get a clear view of the group coming their way. “They’re moving faster,” she says quietly, gripping the axe she’d been keeping between her knees.  
  
    “How many,” Quinn asks. She tries giving the truck some gas but it doesn’t help. Her hands are starting to shake and Rachel swats her hand away, trying to turn the key herself.  
  
    “15, I think.”  
  
    Puck’s yelling and they can’t just sit here. The truck’s not going to start in enough time. It’d be stupid to think that they’ll be handed a miracle; that the truck will magically come to life at the last possible second. “We have to kill them,” Rachel says. That seems to be all Tina needs because she jumps out of the truck, swinging the axe over her shoulder.  
  
    “Get back in the cab, Tina,” Puck and Mike say simultaneously.  
  
    Quinn takes a deep breath and then grabs the broken broom stick from the dash. “Do you have your-” Rachel holds up her baseball bat and handgun and Quinn nods before sliding out of the truck.  
  
    Puck’s propping Santana up against the back of the truck, far enough in that nothing will be able to grab her from the sides. “We’re ready for this,” he says firmly. “We...” His shoulders sag with the deep breath he takes and he squares them off just before he jumps down to join the rest of them.  
  
    “That’s more than 15,” Quinn mutters and she’s right. It looks more like 20, maybe more, and she’s absolutely terrified. She wonders if this is how Finn felt before he died. If all hope had left him and the harsh reality of what was about to come over him hit him like cold water to the face. She wonders if maybe, just maybe, he thought he’d make it. If he had just enough optimism to get him through that first kill.  
  
    The zombies break into a run and she feels the baseball bat starting to slip in her grip, her hand sweating as she waits for one to get close enough for her to swing at. Her gun is a last resort because she’s still not very good with it and she still has to be pretty close to her target.  
  
    Kurt is the first to shoot, firing two bullets into the zombie in the front of the group followed by Quinn and Tina rushing toward the undead. Puck covers them the best he can, sending a shell between the eyes of a zombie, its head practically exploding before it can get a hold of Tina. “Rachel,” Santana shouts and when she blinks, she realizes there’s a zombie heading straight for her. She thinks it might be Mrs. Schroeder but it’s hard to tell since half her face is gone. She’s wearing the sweater Rachel had complimented her on the morning the outbreak happened and her stomach is still swollen with the baby that was supposed to arrive mid October. Rachel notices a chunk of skin missing from Mrs. Schroeder’s stomach and even though she can’t imagine doing anything other than throwing up at the sight of the tiny arm trying to claw its way out of its mother, her bat somehow manages to swing through Mrs. Schroeder’s head, blood splattering across the field and seeping into her bat. She hits her skull two more times, the crack echoing in her ears. Another zombie falls next to her feet and she turns to see Tina pulling back her blood soaked axe.  
  
    “Thanks,” Rachel breathes out but the word is lost over the sound of gunshots. Another three descend upon them and they take the first two out with what Rachel thinks would be called ease but the last one pulls on her ankle once she knocks it to the ground. She can’t swing like this and Rachel kicks at the forehead of the zombie while reaching for her gun. Tina manages to swing the blade directly through its head, slicing it in half. Thick, almost black blood mixes with deteriorating brain, bits of fractured bone slipping into the dirty snow and hay.  
  
    “Mike!” Tina’s axe drops into the disgusting mixture as her eyes widen and when Rachel looks over her shoulder, she can’t believe what she sees. Santana’s shooting at the zombies that frenzy towards Kurt while he throws his gun to the ground, giving up on reloading his gun and fumbling to pull his blade from the holder on his hip. Quinn and Puck are back to back, Puck trying to reload his shotgun as fast as possible while Quinn kicks a zombie off her shank, her eyes focused on Mike who is being over taken by five walkers.  
  
    Tina won’t stop screaming. She’s drawing even more attention to them but Rachel can’t fault her for it. They all get their free pass and she knew this would be Tina’s from day one.  
  
    Rachel scrambles to her feet as Tina tries to pass her, wrapping her arms around Tina’s waist as Quinn and Puck rush towards the horde surrounding Mike. Puck pulls the shotgun trigger twice and two zombies fall instantly, the other three falling after Mike swings his machete through the throat of the one gnawing at his hip and Quinn stakes two with her sharpened post. Tina falls to her knees just as Rachel hears a twig snap behind her and she empties her gun into the heads of four living corpses.  
  
    Tina starts to crawl forward and Rachel physically has to sit on her back and pin her down to stop her from going over to Mike.  
  
    They both watch as Quinn pulls Mike to his knees, his body swaying from side to side in a way that looks like he’s showing them some new choreography. Blood runs down his pants, Quinn’s fingers twitching to put pressure on the wound, but there’s no point. His head falls to Quinn’s shoulder and Rachel’s positive she can see tears staining her pale cheeks before Puck raises his gun.  
  
    Tina screams louder. Rachel shoves her hat into the other girl’s mouth, squeezing her eyes shut as she distantly hears Quinn repeating no. She bravely opens her eyes in time to see Puck return his gun to his back, reaching for the blade on his hip. Quinn lifts Mike’s head, her fingers threading through his dark hair, and she presses a kiss against his forehead right before Puck’s blade slices through flesh.  
  
    She covers Tina’s eyes just before it happens. Rachel thinks it’s fitting how graceful his body falls to the ground.  
  
\--  
  
    Everyone keeps bugging her, jiggling the locked door knob before sighing against the wood. Artie offers to talk, both Quinn and Santana offer food, and Puck simply asks if she’s still breathing (Rachel must hit him because Tina hears this indignant sound she always associates with Rachel followed by a mumbled apology). She stays curled and contorted in the middle of the bed that’s too big for her now. This entire room is too big for her. She knows that she could go out the door, be surrounded by people instead of this overwhelming loneliness, but it won’t help. Being alone in a crowded room is something she was all too familiar with before she met Mike. Those people out there may be her friends but they’re not who she wants, who she needs.  
  
    She’d trade every single one of them for Mike.  
  
    Tina doesn’t know how Rachel managed to come back from Finn’s death. This sadness is weighing her down yet she feels hollow, empty; she feels like she did before, when she thought the only person she could trust, count on, and believe was herself. The only light she had left in her life has been extinguished and it makes her feel dead and ill and she has to lean off the side of the bed to empty her stomach.  
  
    If Mike hadn’t gone with her, he could still be alive right now. He would be with his family and he wouldn’t have had to go with Finn and-  
  
    She heaves again and it tears at her throat, nothing but bile coming up.  
  
    She can’t live like this. She doesn’t _want_ to. Without Mike, she’s done.  
  
    Tina puts on the clothes she wore the day everything changed, folding her sweats and leaving them on the end of the bed. She doesn’t take a jacket or anything more than she had on her that day at school and quietly walks out of the room, leaving her vomit to soak into the carpet.  
  
    As silently as she can, Tina lowers the ladder to the ground and when she gets downstairs, she’s surprised that no one has poked their head out of their room.  
  
    She steps outside, making sure the door is locked behind her.  
  
    She doesn’t even feel the cold as she walks down the street.  
  
\--  
  
    “Mommy? I mean, Quinn?” Someone is pushing on her shoulder and when Quinn cracks open an eye, Stacey is standing in front of her, arms clutching the stuffed dog she’d taken from Quinn’s room.  
  
    “What is it, Stacey?”  
  
    Puck lifts his head behind her, pulling Quinn closer to the middle of the bed to make room for Stacey. “Where is Tina going?”  
  
    “What,” Puck asks louder than he should and Stacey jumps back a the volume. Quinn runs her hand over Stacey’s hair, nails scratching at a scalp in a way that has always calmed the little girl down. “Stacey, come here and lay down.”  
  
    Stacey slides into Quinn’s spot when she gets up and Quinn goes down the hall, pausing when she notices that Tina’s door is open. “Tina,” she calls out.  
  
    The room is empty.  
  
\--  
  
    She has no idea where the hell Brittany found this rubber duck considering they’re in the Fabray household which means cute, fun things are like, signs of the devil. But there it is, floating on the water between Brittany’s bent knees, it’s beak missing some of the orange paint. “I miss Mike.”  
  
    She makes a tiny wave with her hands, sending the duck to the other end of the tub before bringing both hands to rest on Brittany’s abdomen. “I know, baby. I miss him too.”  
  
    Brittany’s fingers poke at Santana’s thighs and she squeezes them around her girlfriend’s hips. “I knew him longer than you,” Brittany points out softly. “I knew him longer than everyone, other than my parents… He was my very first dance partner. Did you know that?”  
  
    Santana shakes her head, dragging her fingers up until they rest on Brittany’s ribs, her thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts. “I knew you two used to take dance together when you first started.”  
  
    “It was just a tiny recital for our parents and we were only paired up because we both missed the class where we picked partners.” Brittany locks their fingers together, squeezing them tightly. “We tried to show off and do a lift. I ended up chipping my tooth while Mike broke his wrist.”  
  
    Santana laughs even though it feels almost rude to do so so soon after everything. But, well, Brittany’s still here. Why not enjoy that instead of staying caught up, thinking of all the things they could have done to change where they’re at now. “Weren’t you guys like, five? What made you try a lift?”  
  
    Brittany turns in her arms, arching one of the eyebrows Santana sculpted yesterday when she was bored. “Have you seen how amazingly talented we are? We were totally better than the rest of our class then too.”  
  
    Santana rolls her eyes, letting go of Brittany’s cheeks in her hands their lips sliding against each other’s. Brittany turns around and Santana can’t imagine how uncomfortable she must be in this tiny tub. Brittany’s legs are bent in half, her toes wiggling in the cold air, and her arms wrap around Santana’s waist, her elbows hitting the sides of the tub, but she doesn’t complain, just sinks further into Santana. Brittany tucks her head into the crook of Santana’s neck and she can feel her heart start to beat wildly against her chest. Every part of her can feel Brittany. There’s no inch of skin that can’t and she swallows hard when she realizes how bad she could have fucked this up. Sometimes during the endless hours of downtime they have, she thinks about what would have happened between them if life went on like normal. She doesn’t doubt that she would have continues to fuck up at every turn because she’s emotionally retarded. Back then the thought of this, having Brittany completely consume her touch, her smell, her thought, seemed like it would kill her. It was too much for an “average” teenage girl. But now, there is no more average, no more normal, and what once scared her serves to keep her motivated and strong.  
  
    “I miss Tina too” Brittany says against her skin. Santana threads a wet hand through Brittany’s hair, trying to bring her the tiniest bit closer. “I know I’ll miss Mike more and probably forever though.”  
  
    “You were closer to him. Of course you’ll-”  
  
    Brittany shakes her head against Santana “I don’t think that’s why.”  
      
    “No?”  
  
    She feels Brittany lick her lips, her eyelashes fluttering against wet skin before Brittany’s eyes close. “I think I’m mad at her for leaving.“ Brittany’s fingers start to dance slowly along the parts of Santana’s back they can reach. “I loved Mike too. Differently , yeah but I’m still here. Puck and Rachel and Kurt stayed after Finn… She didn’t think about us.”  
  
    “I don’t think you can really fault her for that,” Santana says softly. “People do stupid shit when they’re in love.” Brittany sets her forearms on either side of Santana, and a shiver runs through her entire body when Brittany puts space between them to look Santana in the eye. “What would you do if something happened to me?”  
  
    Santana blinks. “I don’t like thinking about that.”  
  
    “I’m serious, San.” They untangle from each other but she catches Brittany’s wrist, her thumb pressing down just enough that she can feel the steady pulse. “What would you do if I died? Would you do what Tina did?”  
  
    She hates to admit it, but she probably would. A few clays after Tina left, she and Quinn talked about it. It was one of the most honest conversations they’ve ever had. Quinn admitted that she’s not sure she’s ever loved someone enough to really want to just, not want to live anymore, but that she has thought about it before, weighed the pros and cons more than once. “You know I hate being considered weak,” Quinn said. She has the kids to think about now too and when she turned to Santana, she didn’t ask if she’d disappear like Tina. She just kind of frowned, refused to look at Santana and said she’d really miss her.  
  
    “I’m not sure I really remember life without you, Britt.”  
  
    Brittany crawls into Santana’s lap, shaking her head as she settles on her knees. “There was life before me and there will be after me. Promise me you won’t do that to our friends.”  
  
    Santana’s hands grip Brittany’s hips and she hates that the bones are more prominent now that they’ve been surviving on food rather than _eating_. I don’t want to talk about this.”  
  
    Brittany puts her hands on Santana’s shoulders, taking a fallen stand of Santana’s hair and swirling it around her bun to get it off her neck. “Did Rose give up after Jack dies? Did Noah give up on Allie when she couldn’t remember? Did Blue stop leaving clues after Steve left?”  
  
    “That’s a really creepy comparison” She can feel her face scrunching and Brittany kisses the tip of her nose till she relaxes again.  
  
    “Promise me you’ll stay here safe and surrounded by our family if something happens to me.” Her hands clasp behind Santana’s neck and she can feel tiny droplets if water run down her exposed skin. “I know they’ll take care of you  if I can’t.”  
  
    Santana licks her lips, her forehead falling to Brittany’s collarbone. “If I promise you that, you have to promise too.”  
  
    Brittany nuzzles her head before taking the tip of Santana’s ear between her teeth, biting hard enough for her to feel it. “I promise.”  
  
    Brittany pulls back, her thumb dragging the nape of Santana’s neck to her heart, palming her breast. When she breathes out, “I promise,” Brittany’s other hand slips between her legs.  
  
\--  
  
    Puck looks at him like he’s crazy when he laughs. “S’ funny,” he asks stretching out his legs on the bed. It’s a pretty sunny day and the room seems too cheerful given that they’re essentially living in hell.  
  
    He yawns, eyes hooded as he rolls on to his side,  knees bumping against Puck’s thigh.  
  
    “Life” Kurt answers simply.  
      
    “Yeah?”  
  
    Kurt nods, bending his arms under his head. “If our town hadn’t been overrun by zombies, none of us would be where we are now.”  
  
    Puck’s eyebrows furrow together and he scratches his stomach. “In Q’s house?”  
  
    “I meant in the more personal sense,” Kurt drawls, shaking his head as he looks past Puck and out the window. If he squints hard enough, he can see a zombie trudging through the snow before falling to the ground.  
  
    Puck’s quiet for a second and Kurt doesn’t understand how Quinn is able to tolerate him thinking so loud. “I dunno… I think some of the same stuff would’ve happened. It’s like, fate, or whatever bullshit you want to call it.”  
  
    It’s Kurt’s turn to look at him like he’s crazy. “After this year, we all would’ve gone our separate ways. Rachel and Quinn would have never become friends, Santana wouldn’t have accepted herself, at least not yet, and _this_?” He looks between the two of them and can’t hold back the small bark of laughter that bubbles in his throat. “Realistically, we would’ve always been at least aware of each other because of Finn but the minute I got my diploma, I was going to either LA or New York. Did you even have plans to leave Ohio?” He knows that he sounds harsh but it’s the truth. He knew that Puck was doing a lot better in school. Doing better didn’t equal much more than a state school though, if that. “We weren’t even close enough for me to know what the hell you wanted to do after high school.”  
  
    Puck pushes himself up so he can lean against the headboard. “Did you know what Blaine wanted to do after high school?”  
  
    Kurt wrinkles his brow. “I thought we established that I evidentially did not care for him as much as I thought.”  
  
    “All I’m saying is that you didn’t give a fuck about his plans and yet you were dating him.”  
  
    Kurt sighs and rolls on his back. “You’re Noah Puckerman. That’s why, we never would have happened.”  
  
    “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”  
  
    He covers his face with his hands. “Do we really have to do this?”  
  
    “Considering you brought it up, yeah, I think you at least owe me a reason as to why this is laughable.”  
  
    “Because I don’t think you would have ever been with a man if it weren’t for the fact that you’re in a world with limited options. You’d probably still be boinking Quinn if not for -”  
  
    Puck looks straight at Kurt and snarls “Fuck you,” before kicking off the blankets and getting out of bed. “We’re in the middle of the end of the fucking world and yet you’re still the same judgmental _asshole_ you’ve always been.” Puck shakes his head, picking his boxers off the ground and angrily stepping into them. “If I didn’t _like_ you, I wouldn’t be here, Kurt.”  
  
    “That’s not what I’m saying,” Kurt sighs, sitting up as Puck pulls his shirt over his head. “You just can’t honestly tell me we would have started doing whatever this is if everything was still normal.”  
  
    “As fast as this did? No, it probably not. But I’m not going to stand here and say that it was never on the table.”  
  
    “What are you saying,” Kurt asks, running a hand through his hair. “Did you like me?” Puck shrugs stepping into his sweatpants. “ _Answer_ me.”  
  
    “Wasn’t it obvious that I at least _cared_ about you? I know I used to do shit things to you, but we had become friends. You’re Finn’s brother, that meant that I had to protect you and shit.” He shakes his head, scratching at the back of his neck. “If anything ever happened to Finn, I’d still be right here for you… I don’t fucking know, Kurt. I don’t know what I’m trying to say ‘cept that I didn’t write you off like you apparently did me.”  
  
    “Puck,” Kurt tries but Puck just shakes his head, slamming the door behind him. Kurt can hear him next door asking Quinn to come do some mark practice with him and before Kurt knows it, Rachel’s coming in.  
  
    “What happened,” she asks like she didn’t hear almost the entire exchange. He pulls the blankets up to his chin, rolling so that he can’t look at her. The bed dips behind him and Rachel stays above the blanket as she curls around his body, perching her chin on his shoulder.  
  
    “Come on, Kurt. It’s just me.”  
  
    “Do you believe in fate?”  
  
    She reaches up, pushing his hair which is getting way too long off his forehead. “In some cases, I think.” She shrugs a little. “Life is funny.”  
  
    “Be careful who you say that to,” he muses and then sighs heavily. “I essentially told Puck it was ludicrous to think we would have… fallen into bed with each other if _zombies_ hadn’t taken over.”  
  
    “Ludicrous?” Rachel’s hand finds his forearm, her fingers tapping out what he thinks is the opening bars of ’Don’t Rain’. “I think 'unexpected' would have probably been a better word.”  
  
    He rolls his eyes. “Point is, I don’t see why we should pretend we never would have happened otherwise.”  
  
    “Frankly, I don’t think you can say it never would have happened if it’s happening now.” He looks up at her and she wears a tiny smile. “I know that we’ve all changed a lot since we’ve been here, but I don’t think that you two being together is such a stretch.”  
  
    “Puck isn’t gay,” he stresses.  
  
    “Sexuality is incredibly fluid, Mr. Hummel. Just because Puck had only been with members of the opposite sex doesn’t mean that’s all he’s interested in or open to.”  
  
    “How can you say that about _Puck_?”  
  
    Rachel kisses his shoulder and sits up. “Because I’m thinking about my good friend Noah Puckerman, not the football player ‘bro’ you are.”  
  
\--  
  
    Quinn runs her fingers over all of the stab marks from their practice, picking at the splitting wood before sighing. “You know that I love you, right?” He nods, tells her the same thing, lets her take his hand from his thigh and cradle it between her own. “I’m _really_ lucky to have you.”  
  
    “Good, ‘cause I may be living on your couch forever,” he grumbles and she rolls her eyes, shoving his shoulders with hers.  
  
    “God, you sound like a chick.” He manages a small laugh and she grins when she hears it. “Besides, world is over. You’ll be in my bed forever if you think you’re going to be alone.”  
  
    He looks at her, eyebrow raised. “Really? Because you and Rachel have been getting pretty close.”  
  
    She shakes her head but chooses to look down at their hands. Hers aren’t as soft as they used to be and rightfully so considering all the moving and work they do. There’s tiny calluses on her palms and, yeah, this reminds him of Quinn. Soft with some rough patches. “Rachel and I are _friends_. I know Santana, Brittany, and all the porn you used to watch probably confused  you, but rumor has it, girls can be friends and not shove their tongues various places.”  
  
    This time his laugh echoes in the practically empty office. “S’pretty vulgar for  you, Q. Guess all it took was living with me and Santana 24/7 for a few months.”  
  
    “Shut up,” she says, shoving him again. “You going to come back to our room?” He shrugs, lacing his fingers with hers. He chips at the nail polish on her index finger and even though she glares at him, she doesn’t stop him.  
  
    “I dunno yet,” he breathes out. “Think Kurt will pull his head out of his ass?”  
  
    “Probably not.” He nods and she lets her head fall to his shoulder. “You know we probably shouldn’t…”  
  
    He nods again. “Can’t afford to fuck shit up now, huh?” He sighs. “End of the god damn world and still can’t catch a fucking break with you bitches.”  
  
    Before, Quinn probably would’ve gone off on him about respecting women or shit like that, but now she just laughs and plants a kiss on his cheek. “Finally caught a break with this one. Only took you till the very end of life as we knew it.” He catches her lips for another kiss and because she’s still more decent than him, she tenses for a second before she kisses him back.  
  
\--  
  
    “What day is it,” Stacey asks a few weeks later when she’s laying on her tummy in between Brittany and Rachel. They haven’t really told the kids that they’re already in a new year because Quinn said it’d just bum them out that they didn’t have a Christmas or a Thanksgiving or anything like that. They’ve never really asked before though, just usually ask when Sam will be coming back, but they don’t really ask that as often anymore.  
  
    “Why do you ask?” Brittany wonders if Rachel’s started to forget too. It’s not like the days really matter anymore and whenever Brittany’s curious, she has to look at the calendar she made for the year. Santana makes sure to cross off the day before they go to bed every night.  
  
    Stacey shrugs, coloring in the last bit of the unicorn on her page. Quinn clears her throat from the doorway and then softly says, “It’s close to your birthdays, actually.”  
  
    Stacey says quiet for a really long time, putting the blue crayon back in its place. “My birthday is in March though… Did Santa turn into one of the monsters? Is that why we didn’t have it?”  
  
    “Did you ever see the Nightmare Before Christmas,” she asks and Stacey shakes her head. Brittany stands, scooping up Stacey in the process. “Come on. We’ll go hang out in your room so Stevie can hear the story too.”  
  
    Brittany makes a mental note to tell anyone who has watched the movie about the changes she makes to the version she tells the kids.  
  
\--  
  
    “Isn’t the shelf life long on twinkies and stuff like that,” Artie asks as they sit around the card table that night, once the kids are put to bed. “The thought of them not even having a cake… Every kid needs cake on their birthday.”  
  
    Puck shakes his head from across the table. “That shit in Zombieland was a joke. Twinkies expire just like other shit.” Puck throws an arm around the back of Quinn’s chair and Kurt shift uncomfortably next to him.  
  
    Quinn’s head is in her hands, pulling at her hair. “Artie’s right. Cake is a birthday staple. They deserve a day that feels _normal_.”  
  
    Rachel slides the legal pad that’s been sitting in front of Artie, BIRTHDAY IDEAS written in boldface at the top in his too neat handwriting, and then starts writing down things like streamers, balloons, and signs. Next on the list is graham crackers, followed by frosting, and he smiles. “That’d totally work.”  
  
    She smiles. “A little ghetto, but we have to work with what we got.” She finishes off the list with presents and then throws it into the middle of the table. “We should still be able to find most of that. I don’t think anyone really made it a priority to grab anything on that list. Well, except maybe graham crackers.”  
  
    Puck looks it over, his hand now rubbing Quinn’s shoulder, and since Artie spends so much time alone, he’s not _exactly_ sure what’s going on between Kurt and Puck but he really hopes there isn’t another Brittany/Santana/him thing forming, especially since this is still Quinn’s house. Kurt won’t look away from the hand massaging Quinn’s shoulder until the blonde looks up and he actually gets up from the table after that, asking anyone else if they want water. “We’ll run out tomorrow and get all this stuff. I’ll make sure there’s still enough gas in the van when I wake up.”  
  
    “Can I go with tomorrow,” Brittany asks and Santana’s eyes are on her immediately.  
  
    “You always stay here with the kids and Artie, in case they need anything.”  
  
    Brittany nods, chewing on her thumb. “Yeah, but I figure that maybe you can stay tomorrow? I wanted to pick something out for the kids myself.”  
  
    Santana shakes her head and when Artie locks eyes with Puck, they both back up from the table. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”  
  
    “Why not? I can take care of myself out there.” Brittany folds her arms over her chest as Santana opens her mouth again and, damn it, Artie isn’t going to get any sleep tonight if they fight this out in here.  
  
    “Can we talk about this in the morning,” Quinn suggests, standing up. “Or can you just, not argue about this _now_? It’s late and we need to rest up if we’re going out tomorrow. We need to leave early too. Looks like it’s been going to rain for the past few days.”  
  
    Brittany uncurls from her chair, fake smile on her face. “It’s okay, Quinn. No need to argue because I _am_ going.” Brittany fixes Santana with a look and Artie’s a little surprised to see that Santana glares back.  
  
\--  
  
    She’s showing Stevie how she makes her sandwiches (except she’s using crackers now since they ran out of bread a long time ago) when Brittany’s arms wrap around her waist, one of her hands sneaking under the hem of her shirt. Santana wipes the excess peanut butter on the rim of the jar before pointing at the cracker. “You see how I made sure you can’t see the cracker underneath? You have to do that if you want it to taste good.” Stevie nods as he writes that down on the spiral notebook in his hands. Brittany circles Santana’s belly button with the tip of her finger, setting her chin on her shoulder.  
  
    “Everyone is ready and the van’s running fine, so we’re going to head out.” Santana nods, pulling her hand from her shirt as she tells Stevie that he forgot to cross his T. “Baby…”  
  
    “Don’t,” Santana warns her and when Brittany kisses her neck, she can feel that the corners of Brittany’s lips are downturned.  
  
    Stevie looks up, grimacing when he sees that Brittany’s kissing her, and she almost pushes Brittany away again when she feels Brittany’s teeth scrape along her skin. “You always stay with us,” he says and Brittany pulls off her with a pop. It makes Stevie look at them even more weird and she feels herself blush for the first time in years.  
  
    “I know, but Santana is today because I want to get some things that I don’t want the three of you to see,” Brittany responds, trying to slip her hand back underneath Santana’s shirt but she pushes Brittany away, pressing herself closer to the counter.  
  
    “You’re getting me something too?”  
  
    “It was _supposed_ to be a surprise,” Brittany answers as she swats the side of Santana’s thigh. “But I don’t want you acting like this towards me anymore.” She sees Brittany blow some hair out of her eyes in the mirror. “Even though you don’t really have a right to be upset at _all_.”  
  
    “I don’t like the thought of you going out there, Brittany. It’s dangerous and I know you’re safe here.” Brittany squeezes her thigh and Santana pushes her off before she opens the jar of jelly. “I know it drives you insane when I go out but, I just…” She scrapes the edges of the jar, shaking her head. “I want you here.”  
  
    Kurt calls Brittany from downstairs and when Brittany tries to kiss her cheek, she turns her head. She notices Stevie’s eyes widen and then Santana looks up to see Brittany glaring at her in the mirror. “I can’t _believe_ you sometimes.”  
  
    She holds her breath until Brittany’s out of their makeshift kitchen and then lets her whole body sag before she picks up the cracker with the jelly on it. “For this one-”  
  
    “Go tell her you love her,” Stevie instructs, his pencil pointing to the door. She rolls her eyes and tells him to pay attention, otherwise she’ll never teach him how to make the sandwiches, but he stands his ground, going as far as swatting her hands when she starts smearing the jelly. “Stop it! She’s leaving and you’re being mean to her! What if she doesn’t come back like Sam?”  
  
    The cracker drops face down in the sink, leaving a purple trail as it slides down the side of the porcelain. “What do you mean like Sam? You’re brother’s coming back, Stevie.”  
  
    He grabs her wrist and tries his best to pull her towards the door. “Stop her before she leaves, stupid!” He uses his whole body to try and pull her forward and he has a decent amount of strength all things considered. “Brittany,” he yells, and when she starts walking, she has to catch him before he falls over himself. “Brittany!” She lets him drag her all the way to the stairs because yeah, this seven year old kid is right. If something happened to Brittany she’d hate herself and she actually hates fighting with Brittany. Hasn’t even been a day, really, but somehow it already feels like forever.  
  
    Brittany pops up from behind the ledge, her smile dropping when she sees Santana. “She has something that she has to tell you.” She kneels down on the edge of the stairs once Stevie pushes her forward and she tries to block out the rest of their friends staring up at them. Quinn, thankfully, suggests they all load up, so that the only audience they have is Stevie. “Tell her.”  
  
    “Tell me what,” Brittany asks, holding on to the crumbling landing, and Santana cups her cheek. Brittany’s eyes soften, her hand starting to come up to touch Santana’s wrist but she stops her.  
  
    “I don’t want you falling,” Santana says as she leans forward, capturing Brittany’s lips. Brittany nips at her bottom lip and Santana can feel her smiling. “I love you. I’m sorry.” She presses a few more lingering kisses against Brittany’s lips. “Be safe, okay?”  
  
    “I love you too, even though you’re a jerk.” Santana rolls her eyes as she tucks back Brittany’s bangs before she can blow them out of the way herself. “We’ll be back soon.”  
  
    Santana leads Stevie back to the sandwiches, hitting the back of his head when she notices the smug look on his face. “When’d you get so smart, kid?”  
  
    He shrugs. “My teachers must be really good.”  
  
    She grins. “I actually think it’s probably just _one_ of your teachers.”  
  
    “You’re right. Quinn knows so much more than the rest of you,” he says and she hits him again, ruffling his hair just to mess with him more.  
  
    Stevie picks up the crackers, pulling a new one out and handing it to her before picking back up his pencil. She waits until she pours the jelly before she asks, “Why don’t you think your brother’s coming back?”  
  
    He shrugs a little, smoothing out his hair. “It’s been a really long time… And you guys already said that the other people aren’t coming back because of the monsters.” He sticks his pencil behind his ear, sighing as he looks up at her and god, this kid might as well stab her in the heart. “Sam is smart and awesome, but so was Mike and the monsters got him.”  
  
    He doesn’t look like he’s going to cry but Santana sure as fuck feels like she’s going to start to. “If I hug you, are you going to stab me with a knife,” she asks and he narrows his eyes.  
  
    “If you hug me, are _you_ going to stab me with a knife?” She chuckles and shakes her head, wrapping her arms around the kid she always thought she’d hate. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t stab you with my pencil.”  
  
    She laughs harder and throws his pencil across the room to make him mad.  
  
\--  
  
    He swears they haven’t been ignoring each other. Honestly. They talk to each other when it’s eating time, like when they say thank you for taking their plate, and every once in a while, they’ll say goodnight if they pass one another at night. So when Puck suggests they split up, he really has no reason to protest when Rachel says the girls will go off to get the food while they go look for decorations.  
  
    He keeps his hands in his pockets as they walk down the aisles to the party supplies, trying to think of any small talk he could make. “I was looking into some art schools,” Puck admits as he grabs a duffle bag they pass. “Ms. Pilsbury-” He pauses and shakes his head. It’s been a really long time since they talked about anyone that wasn’t family. “Ms. Pilsbury suggested it actually. There was a few in New York, a couple in LA, but the one that looked like the best was in Florida.”  
  
    Kurt nods, looking at the aisles as they pass. “For music?”  
  
    “Yeah. Probably in comp or education.” They head down aisle thirteen, and Puck cuts the plastic keeping the zippers together on the duffle. “You’re a dick, you know that?”  
  
    Kurt rolls his eyes, pulling two packs of multicolored balloons off the shelf, tossing them into the open bag in Puck’s hands. “You’re not exactly the greatest person. Flattery is also far from your strong suit.” He picks up two rolls of streamers, a pink one and a blue one, and then starts sifting through signs for a happy birthday one. “I’m sorry for what I said, okay? I shouldn’t have just…” He sighs. “Seriously though, you can’t fault me for thinking it’s crazy that someone like you would ever want someone like me unless the situation was dire.”  
  
    Puck pulls a bag of confetti from the shelf, tossing it in the bag as they do a once over. “Can we stop acting so fucking weird? World’s over… I don’t have the fucking energy to deal with your bullshit.”  
  
    “ _My_ bullshit? You’re the one who got so upset.”  
  
    “You were being a _dick_.”  
  
    Kurt huffs, pushing Puck in the shoulder. “I just _told_ you-” Puck kisses him, taking advantage of the fact that his lips were parted.  
  
    Yeah, he’s definitely missed this.  
  
    Puck pulls back a few seconds later with a smirk on his face and Kurt punches him in the chest. “You’re such a jerk.”  
  
    He laughs and then throws an arm around Kurt’s shoulders. “Come on. Let’s go meet up with the girls.”  
  
\--  
  
    They kind of go overboard when it comes to the toys. Because they don’t really make the effort to go into town where the Toys R Us is, the kids have been limited to the few cheap toys they pick up at the stores closest to Quinn’s. They practically grab one of every Barbie for Stacey, including all the houses and cars and stuff she wishes she got growing up, and a bunch of action figures and cars for Stevie. Brittany wanders to the next aisle over, saying something about seeing something for Santana as they try to fit all the boxes into the bags they grabbed on the way to the toy section, but then there’s a gunshot and Brittany’s running back down the aisle, her back to them. “There’s a bunch of them,” she  yells, shooting one right between the eyes. Quinn plucks a Barbie and an action figure out of the bag as blood splatters over the bright pink Barbie display, tucking them under her arm before she pulls the axe off her back.  
  
    Rachel swings her bat through the skull of one that darts for her and Brittany takes out two more as they run towards the entrance of the store. “Where are you guys,” Puck shouts and Quinn trips over a body. She pushes it towards the zombies but it doesn’t do much. Only one of the five seem to take any interest in it, the rest still scrambling towards them. “Where the _fuck_ are you guys!?”  
  
    Quinn manages to get to her feet in enough time to swing her axe through the neck of the zombie in the front of yet another swarm. “Are you okay,” Rachel asks, pulling out her gun and shooting the zombie who starts darting at Brittany from the side before turning around to take another zombie’s head off with her bat.  
  
    “I’m fine.” Quinn stabs a zombie through the back of the head and only manages to chop off the arm of another by the time she pulls the axe free from its skull. Brittany’s gunshots start to deafen her but then Rachel realizes there’s no more shooting. She spins around to see Brittany struggling to reload her gun. “Just drop it,” Rachel yells, shooting at the two still advancing on Brittany only for her to hear Quinn scream behind her.  
  
    She knows she shouldn’t, but the moment she hears it, Rachel closes her eyes because it already feels like it’s too late.  
  
\--  
  
    Kurt’s bullet sails through the zombie on top of Quinn and Puck uses Mike’s jiàn to kill three of the zombies that start frenzying towards them. “Thank you,” Quinn yells, shoving off the now dead zombie as she pulls her axe from it’s collarbone. Rachel tosses her gun to the ground when it runs out, using her bat to fend off the horde that starts to filter out from the rows of household cleaners while Brittany shoves the bullets into her gun.  
  
    “We gotta go. Just… We gotta get out.” Quinn slices four zombies in half at the waist and Puck follows behind her, stabbing each one in the head.  
  
    “We can’t turn our backs when they’re like this.” A zombie claws at Rachel and Quinn puts a bullet through the back of its skull.  
  
    “ _Fuck_!” Brittany pulls at her trigger but her gun doesn’t shoot. Kurt tries to help Rachel the best he can at picking them off before his own gun runs out of bullets and he flips the gun in his hand, using the butt to crush the skulls. Brittany follows suit, the three of them managing to take out most of the zombies rushing them until Brittany gasps. He turns around as the last zombie in front of him drops to the ground, its blood staining his hands, and sees Brittany lower her gun, Tina staring at her like she actually remembers who Brittany is.  
  
    And then Tina rushes forward, her dirty, rotten fingers curling around Brittany’s arms, pulling Brittany closer. The blonde tries to bring her gun up once she’s been grabbed and he’s already shouting no as he raises his own gun up, but Tina, or this… _thing_ that looks like somebody he used to know lurches forward, her teeth tearing into Brittany’s neck.  
  
    Blood paints her pale skin, covers the hickey that’d been on her neck for nearly three days now. Her head lolls towards him and he can hear Tina tearing away at her throat but he can’t look away from the blue eyes that seem to still be staring at him.  
  
    Brittany drops to the ground when Puck puts a bullet through Tina’s head. There’s still a handful of zombies around them but Puck and Rachel manage to handle them all as Quinn pushes Kurt out of the way, falling on to her knees next to Brittany. Her hand goes straight to the hole in Brittany’s neck, putting pressure on it even though it won’t help. “No,” she cries, shoving Tina’s body off of Brittany and he can’t stop staring at Quinn’s hands covered in their friends’ blood. “You can’t die!”  
  
    Kurt looks around them, all of the dead now resting on the ground for good. Puck and Rachel are staring at them and he swallows hard. “Quinn,” he tries and she shoves him away when he tries to pull her away as gently as he can.  
  
    Quinn cradles Brittany’s head in her arms, wiping her hand the best she can on her shirt before smoothing back Brittany’s hair. “We lose Santana too,” Quinn mutters.  
  
    Puck kneels down next to, taking Brittany’s head out of her grasp and laying the blonde flat on the ground. “We gotta take care of her before she comes back,” he says softly. Quinn starts shaking her head and pushes him away from her but he just locks on to her shoulders when she starts crying harder. “Do you want me to do it?”  
  
    She shakes her head again, slumping into Puck for a moment. “I need to do it.” Rachel walks over to him, her arm curling around his and she hides her face in his shoulder when Quinn kisses Brittany’s forehead before putting the gun against it.  
  
\--  
  
    Kurt ends up next to Quinn on the walk back to the van, Rachel already a few feet in front of them and Puck lingering in the back as he smokes the last cigarette he has. He doesn’t know what to say. Even after all the loss he’s been through himself, he still doesn’t know the dialogue that should be used in these types of situations. Actually, lying is about the only thing that helps, at least for a little while.  
  
    Quinn sniffs, running the back of her hand under her nose and he says the first thing that pops into his head. “Brittany was my first kiss.”  
  
    Her steps don’t falter but she does side eye him a little before breathing out, “Yeah. Brittany was a lot of people’s first kiss.” She licks her lips and looks like she might say more but instead she shakes her head and turns around. He watches from over his shoulder as she falls into step with Puck, his sort of boyfriend pulling her close against him, putting out the cigarette when she asks.  
  
    He runs to catch up with Rachel.  
  
\--  
  
    Santana’s on her way to the bathroom when the front door opens and she smiles, leaning on the railing. “About time you guys came home,” she says and the first person in is Kurt, not Brittany. He doesn’t look up at her at all, just throws his blood stained gun to the floor and no.  
  
     _No_.  
  
    Quinn, who is covered in dried blood, looks up at her when she walks through the door, her face blank in a way that reminds Santana too much to when she was trying to ignore the fact she’d given away her child.  
  
    “ _No_ ,” Santana says, shaking her head.  
  
    “I’m sorry, San.”  
  
    She starts screaming and cursing and crying and can’t find it in her to stop when Stevie and Stacey stare at her from the door of the living area.  
  
\--  
  
    Puck and Quinn lead her into what used to be Papa Fabray’s office. They bring a few of the weapons with them but they keep them on them as they tell her what happened. She doesn’t want to hear it, doesn’t want to hear how _Brittany_ , her god damn _Brittany_ , died no thanks to that fucking lovesick whore who Santana once fucking understood, but she lets them tell her everything because some part of her wants to know. She doesn’t think she could stand not knowing.  
  
    Quinn holds out Brittany’s charm bracelet when Puck’s done talking. There’s blood on the silver heart.  
  
    She takes it from Quinn, slips it around her own wrist, and then punches Quinn in the face. “You were supposed to protect her,” Santana spits, punching Quinn again. “She was one of us! You fucking ruined the unholy trinity!”  
  
    She tries to punch Quinn again but Puck steps in the way and her fist lands on his chest. “And _you_! Where the fuck were _you_?!”  
  
    She goes to kick him in the crotch but he blocks the shot. “Anything above the waist is fair game,” he says and she growls, punching him twice in the chest before slugging him in the chin.  
  
    “You’re both so fucking _worthless_ ,” she screams, shoving Puck away from her. Quinn holds out a machete and Santana takes the blade, turning around to stab the wooden desk  as many times as she can.  
  
    It should’ve been her. She always goes on the runs and if she had gone then…  
  
    “I knew it was too dangerous! If she just fucking let me go instead of her.” The blade gets caught in the wood and she pulls at it fruitlessly for a few seconds before slamming her hand on the desk hard enough for her hand to feel like it’s broken. Puck swings an axe into the desk and she grabs it, chopping away until the desk splits down the middle. She turns around, axe still poised, and tries to push past her friends. “Let me out of this fucking room. I need to go kill something.”  
  
    “You are _not_ going out there while you’re like this,” Quinn tells her and Santana has to look away because Quinn’s eye is already turning black.  
  
    “I will kill you if you don’t let me the fuck out of here,” she snarls and Quinn squares her shoulders. “ _Move_ out of the way.”  
  
    “Punch us all you want, Santana. I’ll even let you swing at me with the bat. But you’re not leaving this room until you calm the fuck down.”  
  
    She drops the axe and starts throwing punch after punch, her left hand throbbing with each blow. “I fucking hate both of you! You weren’t fucking watching her! You should have fucking _watched_ her!” Puck stumbles back when she gets him in the nose and she’s about to turn back to Quinn when she notices Puck’s nose bleeding. Her stomach churns at the sight of the fresh blood. She tries to look at Quinn but her vision is blurred and she tries to fist her left hand again but the pain seems worse than before. She can actually feel the sharp shooting racing up her arm and she has to start sucking in breath before she passes out. “She’s all alone now,” she cries, using her good hand to wipe at her cheeks. “Brittany hates being alone.”  
  
    Quinn pulls her against her chest just when her knees start to buckle and Puck comes up behind her. She tries to stay focused on the beating of Quinn’s heart against her ear.  
  
\--  
  
    He hears someone moving around in the room and he strains to see who it is without putting on his glasses but he can’t make out the blur of colors. “Sorry,” Santana says, her voice almost completely gone. He strains to push himself up, sliding his glasses on to his face, and he sees her pulling a water bottle from the case.  
  
    “I’m kind of surprised you haven’t passed out from exhaustion.”  
  
    She shrugs, takes a gulp, wipes her mouth with her hand. “I can’t sleep without Brittany.”  
  
    “You’ll learn to,” he says and he thinks she might be glaring at him. “It’ll take a long time, but eventually… Eventually it gets a little easier to accept she’s not going to be by your side anymore.”  
  
    Santana walks to the foot of the bed, staring at his legs. “You’ll have to teach me your exercises.” She runs a hand through her curly hair before crossing her arms underneath her chest and shaking her head. “I’m never going to accept that she’s not here. Without her… I’m alone.”  
  
    He smiles sadly and pats the space next to him. “Yeah, you’ll get used to that too.”  
  
    She sits in a ball on her side of the bed, the hand she has wrapped resting next to her. “Was it hard,” she asks. “Seeing her be with me?”  
  
    “You know what Brittany’s like,” he says. “It sucks to see all the light that was in your life so close and yet completely out of reach.”  
  
    She nods and then does something he never thought would happen in a million years. Not even a zombie apocalypse made him think this was any more likely. Santana scoots towards him until suddenly she’s curling around him, crying so hard that she starts dry heaving a little. He pulls her closer, rests his cheek on the top of her head.  “I wish she could be here instead of me… That way you two could be together.”  
  
    She digs her face into his pajamas, shaking her head. “I don’t want _anyone_ dead.”  
  
    “But if it came down to it,” he starts, rubbing circles into her arm, “I’m the one who should’ve gone a long time ago. And it’s okay… You don’t have to tell me that it’s not true.”  
  
    He thinks that she might purse her lips over his heart but he couldn’t swear to it.  
  
\--  
  
     She wakes up in an empty bed, the place Santana had occupied last night cold. She quietly checks every room, everyone still asleep even though there’s usually at least two people awake before the sun comes up. She finds Santana curled up in Artie’s bed, hands fisted around his shirt, and Quinn breathes out a sigh of relief when she realizes that everyone, at least physically, is still okay.  
  
    Judging by the sunlight peaking from behind the horizon, it couldn’t be much later than 6:30. She knows it’s careless of her to go alone but they’ve been cooped up in her house for so long now and she still kind of craves the solitary life she used to live. She grabs her weapons just in case, a hunting rifle and the sharpened broom stick, and she watches from behind the van once she’s out of the house to make sure the street is safe before she crosses over to the development that never got started. The ground is wet beneath her and she sinks in a little once she settles on the unleveled dirt, looking out at what looks like miles of untouched land.  
  
    She never wanted to stay in Lima. It’s little more than a cow town people only see because they’re passing through on their way to a real city, and staying means she failed to do anything worth while with her life. She’s spent a lot of time hating and resenting Lima when life was normal but at this very moment in time, she’s strangely at peace with this place she reluctantly calls home. For all she knows, there’s nothing else out there anymore. No big cities, no colleges, nothing that could be better than the set up she has now where she’s surrounded by the people who have always been there when everyone else in her life, including herself, have fallen short. She still wishes that some things were different, that they hadn’t lost so many people, that she knew what happened to the one person in the world she loved more than herself, but considering the destruction surrounding them, she knows that she’s lucky.  
  
    There’s some footsteps behind her and she turns, hand already wrapped around the wooden post, Rachel crossing the street with her bat slung over her shoulder. “Noah would have a fit if he knew you went out here alone.” Rachel drops to the ground next to her, tucking back a piece of hair that falls out from her bun. “Especially after…”  
  
    Quinn nods but shrugs a little. “I just needed a little breathing room.” Rachel looks back at the house and then starts to push herself up but Quinn pats Rachel’s knee. “It’s okay. Being alone is actually a little weird now.”  
  
    “Last night was the first night I can remember actually sleeping alone,” Rachel admits. “First it was Finn, then Kurt, then you, then back to Kurt… I keep trying to think about that night before all this happened but I can’t really remember the details anymore. I know I must’ve slept alone. What I did that night, what I listened to… It’s like I’m trying to remember a dream.”  
  
    “You ever think that this could all just be a dream?”  
  
    Rachel tilts her head, picking at the straw on the ground. “I think this would better suit the nightmare category.”  
  
    “I guess sometimes… But aren’t you supposed to be terrified in your nightmares? Aren’t they supposed to beat you down and leave you… hopeless?”  
  
    “You’re not scared,” Rachel asks, looking up at her through her lashes and she can say with the utmost certainty that, no, she’s not really scared anymore.  
  
    “Everything that we’ve seen is like out of a horror movie. Well, sort of it. It’s Hollywood stuff that somehow came to life around us, and, of course I’m worried. I worry that the next time we head out on a run, we’ll lose someone else and I can’t stop thinking about what will happen to the kids if it’s me or Puck who goes next, but… I don’t know. I’m not hopeless. Everything that’s happened between all of us… Good things have come out of all of this, right? Through all the horrible things we’ve been through, there’s always been a little bit of light at the end of this tunnel.” She looks out at the blank space in front of them, a shiver running through her body when the wind starts to pick up a little bit. She pulls her sweatshirt around her tighter as Rachel does the same, the brunette nodding a little.  
  
    “I guess you’re right… Kurt…” She laughs a little and shakes her head. “Kurt swears that what’s going on between him and Puck is nothing but it’s been so long since I’ve seen him this happy. Last night was rough, but there was still miles of difference between the boy I’d been sleeping next to and the one leading Puck to his room.”  
  
    “It’s not nothing,” Quinn says. “For Puck, it’s almost everything. Almost.”  
  
    Rachel smiles. “He’s got you and the kids to think about too.”  
  
    “Yeah, but Kurt is the one who can give him everything he’s ever really wanted. Someone to return every bit of feeling he has.”  
  
    Quinn sighs and Rachel reaches over, slipping her hand into Quinn’s. “Think we can keep the party supplies hidden from the kids until Friday?”  
  
    Rachel’s hand is warm against hers and she squeezes it tightly. “I think so. Stacey isn’t too much of a snooper but we’re going to have to watch Stevie.” The dew has officially soaked through her sweats but she likes sitting here too much to suggest to Rachel they go back inside.  
  
    “You’re really good with them,” Rachel says, turning away from the length in front of them and looking back at the house. “I don’t think I could have stepped up quite like you and Noah, especially as fast as you both did.”  
  
    “They’re _my_ kids… I only hope that someone-” She cuts herself off. She and Rachel are close now, will probably get even closer the longer they stay together, but Beth… It’ll be years before she can bring her baby up to anyone other than Puck. Rachel squeezes her hand and then brings their joined hands up to her lips, kissing Quinn’s pale skin softly.  
  
    “I think that they’re really going to like the set up. And I really don’t think they’ll care that we weren’t able to bring back as many toys as we wanted to.”  
  
    “I was actually thinking we could all do some sort of, as cheesey as this is, personal gift too. Like, you could sing for them and I found these really good pictures from Regionals. There was even one of all of them… I think they need to have that. Remember their parents and Sam just in case they’re starting to forget too.”  
  
    “I think that will be really amazing, Quinn.”  
  
    “I hope so… And Stevie has been dropping hints about wanting to learn how to use some of the knives and as much as that makes me want to have a heart attack, I think if Puck starts teaching him, that could be okay.”  
  
    “It’s good to be prepared,” Rachel says softly and Quinn nods. The sun hangs bright in the sky, all the clouds that loomed all week finally gone. She starts humming that song from Annie and Rachel laughs before tugging Quinn’s hand. “The sun’ll come out, tomorrow, bet your bottom dollar that, _tomorrow_ …”  
  
    “It’s funny, isn’t it? How we can forget some things and yet we both still remember lyrics to songs we haven’t heard in forever.”  
  
    Rachel does her best to spin Quinn, rising on to her tiptoes even though Quinn still has to bend down. “I don’t really think I can forget music. Words to songs I used to know? Sure. But something as simple as opening my mouth and a melody coming out?” She shakes her head. “Music has been around forever and I sure as hell won’t let it die out now.”  
  
    A lopsided smile forms on Quinn’s face as Rachel starts singing the rest of Tomorrow, spinning her bat in her wrist, and Quinn can’t look away from every movement the other girl makes. She’s only singing loud enough for Quinn to hear but Rachel might as well be putting on a concert for hundreds of people. “I think this whole journey could turn into a pretty decent musical,” Quinn says once Rachel ends her final note. “You know, if you manage to build Broadway from the ground up when everything is said and done.”  
  
    Rachel quirks an eyebrow. “Yeah?” Quinn nods, holding her hand out for Rachel to take again but the brunette goes one step further. She leans up, hand curving around Quinn’s cheek and Quinn can only stare in shock as Rachel looks her straight in the eyes before pushing forward just a little bit more, her lips sliding in place against Quinn’s. It’s gentle and quick, nothing more than simple pressure. Rachel pulls back to look at her, her brown eyes catching in the light that reminds Quinn of something that she’d only ever seen in movies. “I think that sounds like the perfect project to start while we wait,” she says quietly.  
  
    Quinn nods, her arms wrapping around Rachel’s shoulders and all of this is new in a way she never thought she’d experience again. She kisses Rachel this time, even though her mind is racing a mile a minute, trying to figure out what this could mean for them. Rachel’s arm slips around her waist, hand flat at the base of her back and Quinn finds herself sinking into the kiss just a little bit more.  
  
    She has the time to figure this out.


End file.
